The Refugee
by NeoAurora
Summary: Home. What did that word even mean anymore? It used to mean so much more than it did now. Back when home was where you felt comfortable, where you felt safe; back when you thought monsters were born from humans, not from space. But they left us here, abandoned us here in this prison of rock and ice with no way out. We're not alone here. The war made refugees out of us all.
1. Chapter I

**THE REFUGEE**

* * *

 **I**

 **2nd YEAR OF FALL, TITAN, SOL SYSTEM, 2556**

Jacen Pearce was positive the Grunts were up to no good.

The stout little aliens waddled about the derelict human compound they'd settled within, built up around one of the moon's multitude of methane and ethane lakes that smeared its frigid surface. There were hundreds of them, all moseying about with their daily tasks that ranged from structure maintenance, to methane supply runs, or to general quarreling amongst one another. The quarreling happened often, which was expected. They were huddled in tight groups, living in structures purposed human life. Nevertheless, it was their makeshift home.

Home.

The hell did that word even mean anymore? It used to mean so much more than it did now. Back when home was where you felt comfortable, where you felt safe. Back when you thought monsters were born from humans, not space. Titan wasn't so much a home as it was a prison, a forgotten prison of rock and ice with a perpetual hazy orange atmosphere that you could barely see through. Jacen found that appropriate. You can't see them and they can't see you. Out of sight, out of mind.

Jacen pulled back from the scope of his M395 DMR, resting his cheek on the rifle's stock. He lay prone on the ground, nestled atop the summit of a lowland mound that provided a less-than-stellar view of the alien compound. It wasn't as inconspicuous as he would've liked, but it was the highest elevation available for miles. He felt exposed, feeling as if he was wearing a giant here I am sign strapped to his chest. But he knew, mostly, that they'd hadn't spotted him. They never did. Or if they had, they simply didn't care. They appeared oblivious to everything around them, but it obvious they didn't like the cold. An average surface temperature of -290 ˚F would discourage anything from being outside. But there they were, taking it in stride in their silver protective armor that undoubtedly kept their stocky bodies from freezing.

Jacen shifted his body, the slushy soil crunching underneath him like wet sand. He'd have to make a move soon, but the timing just felt off. There would never be an ideal time, he reasoned. He could wait another few days, a week perhaps. No, it wouldn't make any difference. He needed to get inside to see what they were up to, to see if they were a threat, to see if they were hiding anything. There was just so many of them outside today.

"Jeez, don't they ever stop screwing?"

Jacen glanced to his right at the body lying prone next to him, dressed head-to-toe in desert patterned thermal fatigues. The face was obscured completely, encased within a thick balaclava, polarized tactical shades, and a breathing apparatus. Not a decimeter of skin was visible, and even the torso, thighs, shins, and forearms were embraced with body armor similar to that of reinforced Kevlar. Jacen wouldn't have known Noelle was inside the suit if she hadn't said anything.

"They'll have us outnumbered in a few months, easy."

Jacen couldn't disagree with her. The Grunts reproduced at an alarming rate, and it would only be a matter of time until they'd need to expand their territory. If he was a betting man, he'd guess they were maybe a little over 300 of them. In a few months' time, however, they could well be in the low thousands. He didn't even want to think about their numbers in the term of years.

"We need to trim their numbers," Noelle added. She brought up her scoped MA37 rifle, picking the dirt from the optic. "Control their breeding, y'know."

Jacen voiced a mild grunt. "We don't have the people for that."

"I could scrounge up some volunteers, get a small team together," Noelle persisted.

"You'd be lucky to convince two, maybe three." Jacen pulled the scope back up, running along the body of the compound until he rested on its western corner. "Besides, we'd risk them retaliating."

Jacen didn't need see Noelle's face to know she'd scoffed at what he said. The way she hunched her shoulders and looked out into the vast emptiness across the moon's landscape was an obvious giveaway. Her attitude had grown more cavalier lately, more reckless in the view of the Grunts. They may've been the black sheep of the Covenant, but that didn't make them any less dangerous than the other species. They'd easily kill you just as well. No, they weren't highly intelligent, but what they lacked intellect, they overcame in sheer numbers. All too often Jacen could recall watching a legion of the little squirts overrun a superior military stronghold, even when he soldiers had the initial advantage. He wouldn't underestimate them.

"Let's get back to the Hog." Jacen slowly receded from the hill, not turning his back to the compound until he knew he was out of sight. "We'll cruise around to the west. May have spotted an entry point there."

Noelle said nothing in reply and got to her feet. She slung the tethered rifle over her torso, adjusting the pack on her shoulder that was mostly empty. By the time they were done here, she hoped the pack would be well stocked.

The two of them hoofed it back to the civilian Warthog they'd parked several hundred yards away, cloaked underneath a brownish-green mesh cover. Jacen ripped the cover away from the hood on back, wading it up into ball before throwing it into the rear bed. He went back to the hood and pressed his hand against the scratched and dented metal. A measure of heat slipped into his fingers. Good, the warmer hadn't shorted out. Vehicle maintenance in such harsh temperatures was a necessity more than a semi-annual luxury of times' past. An engine left idle would freeze over in minutes. A useless block of frozen metal in the middle of nowhere.

Jacen pulled himself into the driver's seat and hit the ignition. He tensed as the Hog struggled to start, but a few revs of the engine brought the sputtering vehicle to life. White exhaust swirled from the muffler. Noelle was already in the passenger side, resting her rifle on her lap as he held her hand over where mouth would be. She kept her eyes transfixed on the side-view mirrors, half expecting a legion of Grunts to come charging over the hill with plasma pistols firing. Their body armor could barely stop a bullet, let along boiling plasma. The UNSC left them nothing.

The Hog pulled off with a jerk, tires churning up the soft surface like sand. Jacen took a wide angle, circling outside of the compound. It was well out beyond the Grunt's view, but definitely not out of earshot. The moon was unsettling quiet; and winds near the surface rarely exceeded 1km per hour, blowing just gentle breeze. Jacen hoped the Grunts made enough of their own racket to drown out the Hog's aggravatingly boisterous engine. In the event they were spotted, they'd abort, wait a month or so, and try again. Third time had to be the charm, he hoped.

Jacen maintained a steady pace, pushing the vehicle at just above 56kph. He occasionally looked east, making sure the hills and rocky outcrops concealed his approach. More than that, any faster, and he'd send the Hog flying if he accelerated over an unseen elevation. Another aggravation. With surface gravity slightly less than that of Earth's moon, anything had the capacity to become airborne. The last thing they needed were the Grunts watching a human vehicle arching in the distance.

"This is good." Noelle sat up in her seat, casually gesturing to a set of oblong rocks jutting from a formation. "We'll hike the rest of the way."

Jacen put on the breaks, turned in at angle between the rocks, and cut the engine. He checked to make sure the heat generator was still pumping heat before getting out. Satisfied, he snatched up his rifle and slipped his pack over his shoulders. Noelle was behind him, slipping the cover back over the Hog. She fished a few extra clips from the crate in the vehicle's bed, sliding them in her chest rig before tossing a few Jacen. He winced, reluctantly taking them. If this went well, he hoped they wouldn't have to use them.

It took under twenty minutes for them to reach the compound, stopping just fifty yards out. They settled in behind a checkpoint booth, surprised the Grunts weren't utilizing it. It was a perfect zone for a lookout, as it gave a near 180˚ panoramic view of the landscape. You'd be able to see anyone approaching from several miles out, easy. Jacen didn't know if it was ignorance on the Grunt's part or not. Maybe they just didn't care that a human settlement was just over 250km south of them. They certainly knew they weren't the only living species on the moon.

Jacen felt a tug at his fatigues. He looked left to see Noelle crouched low inside the booth, pointing up.

"Sentries," she said in a whisper. "See 'em?"

Jacen immediately made himself as small as possible and crept into the booth. Noelle edged to the side, pressing her back the wall as Jacen positioned himself where she once was. He eased his head up to peer through the booth's window with spiderweb fractures across its surface. There, on the fringes of the compound's flat roof, were a pair of Grunts with sighted carbines in their stubby arms. Jacen could just barely make out their fully masked faces, surveying from side to side like a house fan.

"That's new." Jacen reached into his chest rig, pulling out a silencer. He twisted it on the end of the barrel. "They're learning to look out for us."

Noelle swore under her breath. "Must've been Aaron's team that spooked 'em. I told him he was taking too many guys."

"No. I think they're just cautious. Like us." Jacen raised his rifle, juggling with the temptation to take a shot or not. He was confident he could down both of them fairly quickly. The first shot would spook the other, delay reaction time; the second wouldn't know what hit it by the time it knew what was up. He ultimately decided against it. There was probably more than one of them of the roof. They'd raise the alarms.

He panned down from the sentries, running down the structure's weathered frame and examined the open garage entry for the vehicle depot. At his angle, he couldn't make out whether there were human vehicles inside or not. If there were, they'd be beyond functionality, but may still hold viable parts they could haul back to camp.

"I have our entry point," Jacen announced. "Vehicle depot."

Noelle shuffled up beside him, set her tactical shades to 3x zoom. She heavily winced under her mask, sweeping her eyes across the grey canopy that extended out from the depot. "They'll see us. There's no cover between this booth and the depot. That's a…" She estimated the long strip of paved asphalt that ran from the checkpoint booth to the surrounding structure. "… 50, 55 yard sprint."

"I'll take care of that," Jacen ensured. "Just ready to run."

Noelle wasn't sold, not by her sloth-like movements to the edge of the booth. She uttered something that Jacen couldn't catch. He still couldn't comprehend just what the hell was wrong with her today. Cantankerous was the word for it, although she probably wasn't far from being pissed. Whatever. Jacen wasn't a psychiatrist.

"I'll fire a shot. One shot," he told. "It'll startle the sentries, give us some time to hustle in there."

Noelle nodded without a word or protest. She held her rifle in one hand and gripped the edge of the booth with the other with legs primed for takeoff.

Jacen lined up his sights, moving the scope over the roof's edge. He took aim for the concrete lip, just left of the first sentry. Finger within the trigger guard, he turned to Noelle and nodded once. She held a thumbs up.

He fired.

The silenced round coughed from the rifle, striking the lip of the roof. Bits of concrete blossomed out from the impact like a popped balloon. The sentry shrieked, nearly dropping its weapon. It composed itself, building up enough courage to make a slow waddle to where the sound occurred. The second sentry took notice and went to investigate, oblivious to the human that darted from behind the checkpoint booth.

Jacen and Noelle didn't stop. Their boots struck the hard asphalt with repeated thuds, the momentum carrying them in the low gravity. The outside world was unknown to them, their focus tight on the depot opening. Jacen heard nothing but boots striking asphalt, his own breath, and the blood rushing through his ears. Nothing else mattered but getting inside and to check to make sure they weren't seen. It crossed his mind that Grunt's may've been in the garage, but he was willing to assume it was clear. Grunts didn't favor the cold, which was all the more puzzling of why they chose to settle on one of the coldest moons in the Sol System.

Once they made it under the canopy, the two of them practically dove into the garage, stopping themselves the corner wall. Underneath his mask, Jacen grinned humorlessly, sucking in all the air his breathing unit would supply. Noelle was one knee, heaving air as she aimed her rifle in the depot that was dimly laminated by the natural light outside. There was no movement from what she could gather. She kept looking. Grunts were midgets; they could easily hide behind tall cover.

Jacen eventually caught breath, having to hold it for a few seconds just to hear his surrounds. It was all quiet, save for the goings-on that the Grunts were causing. With no immediate squelches from inside the depot, he could only gather that it was empty.

There were indeed vehicles—old and unused. A pair of military-grade Warthogs were parked side by side, stripped of their tires and brakes. One of the hoods was propped open. Jacen went over to look inside. The engine was completely done, leaving just a busted radiator. An alternator, rusted over, was lying on the floor underneath.

Noelle was digging around in the second Warthog's hood, occasionally looking up to make sure her search wasn't loud enough to give away their position. There was nothing of use. Leave it to the Grunts to not give a crap about human engineering.

"Airlock." Jacen pointed to the sealed doors sitting back on a platform in the back of the garage.

Noelle set her eyes on it. "Think it's still operational?"

Jacen only grunted. The compound was one of the first built on the surface, and that was before the war. Chances were, considering its condition, that it was abandoned either when the war just began or a few years after. It'd be a miracle if anything worked in this place.

They approached the airlock, looking it over with inquisitive eyes. Grunts must've had some method of ingress and egress.

"Noelle…" Jacen's tone was one of diluted surprise, a hushed secret. He gestured to the operation panel beside the airlock's doors.

Noelle stepped across the floor stained with old oil stains, brows furrowed at the sight. The panel was holding steady in standby mode, lit up by a dull orange hue. It just needed someone to touch it. She looked into Jacen's face, only catching her own reflection in his silver shades. "Electricity?"

Jacen shrugged. "It's worth a test."

Noelle positioned herself beside the panel, signaled Jacen to stand ready. She made a fist, gently hitting the panel with the side. It flashed green and the first set of doors parted open.

A working airlock? It couldn't have been possible. Maybe the Grunts weren't as dumb as they thought, or maybe the little buggers syphoned off fuel reserves to power up the on-site generators. Not likely. The generators would be old and frozen over. Covenant tech was probably running the place.

Jacen went into the airlock first, rifle moving in sync with his eyes. Nothing appeared to be out of order. Just a standard seven foot box of metal in the shape of an elongated octagon. The next set of doors remained shut, unable to be opened until the enclosed space was vented of foreign matter and flushed with atmosphere. He turned to Noelle and waved her in.

She crept inside, fingers fiddling around the trigger guard as the doors shut. Red lights flashed twice as the sensors picked them up. Nozzles once filled with sterilization vapor pivoted back and forth, spraying nothing. Once the siren ceased, a familiar weight crashed down on them that nearly brought them to their knees.

Noelle caught herself from falling. She looked up at Jacen. "Gravity, too?"

Jacen steadied himself with an arm against the frame. Electricity. Gravity. Yep, the Grunts were definitely up to no good.


	2. Chapter II

**II**

* * *

Leave it to the Grunts to make a human facility feel alien. The first thing that hit Jacen was the smell. A swampy, mildew-like musk that waft through the air. It was similar to an old dish towel left beside the sink too long. What was peculiar was there was a smell. The cold had a way of eliminating most smells. Jacen recalled winters back home, where mornings were so cold that all you could smell was the stiff frost that aggravated the sinuses. But the smell inside the compound was so profound, so noticeable.

Air. The Grunts had air, or at least some sort of stable atmosphere. There was heat, too. It was a humid, wet heat, hanging around the lower to mid-80s in degrees. Trace elements in the air was identical to that of outside—nitrogen, methane, and hydrogen. The amounts, however, had been altered considerably. The level of methane in the air was considerably higher than the standard 1.4% outside. Nitrogen was still present, but the hydrogen had been removed to the point where it barely registered.

"They're building their own atmosphere," Noelle said aloud, more to herself than anything else.

The comment stung Jacen's ears. For a human, having electricity, gravity, and a breathable atmosphere within a structure was commonplace. But for the Grunts to have it, with their intelligence, was difficult to believe. Their intellect matched that of the smartest of canine breeds, but that's where the similarities ended. Jacen didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he was beginning to think that someone may've been helping the Grunts. He kept it to himself.

The vehicle depot was behind them now as they advanced deeper inside. Dim lights glowed like dying suns overhead, providing just enough to see in front of them. There wasn't such silence in the building. The Grunts were a noisy bunch: shuffling, talking, shrieking. Every so often, Jacen and Noelle would cease their progress as a Grunt or two would unknowingly pass them by. They still wore their breathing masks, freely walking about without their armor in relative bliss.

Noelle hadn't said much, but Jacen could tell she wasn't comfortable. He imagined she wasn't thrilled to see the Grunts so relaxed. They never had a chance to relax, so how were the Grunts able to accomplish such a feat? Trespassers. That was the only thing Jacen could formulate about their existence here. It unnerved him that aliens, former Covenant, was living within the inner colonies, just a few planets away from humanity's crown jewel of Earth. They would never see the planet, he reckoned; but just the fact they were so close just didn't sit well with him.

They came to where the hall ended. It branched left and right with faded white words on the wall and corresponding arrows. To the left read, STORAGE, ARMORY, MEDICAL. The right—ENGINEERING, PERSONNEL QUARTERS, LOGISTICS.

Jacen checked his motion sensors. There was some movement beyond the fringes, but nothing was close. He didn't know where the bulk of the Grunts were, assuming they congregated together at all. They could've been well sprawled out, nesting in the many rooms that Jacen and Noelle dared not to explore. It only took one surprised Grunt to ruin everything.

"Which way?" he asked Noelle.

Noelle ran her back against the wall, careful not the cross the edge. She seemed to be mulling it over, taking her time as she examined the faded white paint. Finally gestured right with her thumb. "Let's check engineering." She whirled her finger in the open air. "I'd like to know how they're doing this."

Jacen nodded once. "Lead the way. I got your six."

Noelle brought her rifle up and spun around the corner, keeping her sights low. If a Grunt rounded the next corner, she wouldn't have to adjust. Just one shot. Jacen remained six or so meters behind her, his upper torso a constant swivel.

The personnel quarters came up first on the right, its twin glass doors blown off the hinges and lying in mangled metal on the floor. Shards of glass, years old, appeared to be swept off to the sides due to the high foot traffic that was probably moving through on the daily basis. There was a great deal of clamor coming from where the doors used to be—rustling, yapping, and the occasional shout.

Noelle slowed her pace, creeping with a steady heel-toe that aggravated her ankles. She weaved between the micro-mounds of glass, careful not to step on them. There was no telling how many of them there were inside. She held up a fist. Jacen retracted his intended step, crouched low, and waited. He kept an eye on both ends of the hall.

Every footfall might as well have been an eruption to Noelle. She heard every crackle of the micro-fragments of glass, the creaking of her boot material as it rolled from heel to sole to toe. She simply waited to hear one of the Grunts squeak in alarm. It never came, even when she right up against the frame of the door. She took a knee, leaning just far enough to get an eye into the room.

She swore once. There had to be hundreds of them, all huddled in what used to be the facility's barracks. Even in its heyday, the place was only large enough to sustain a few hundred people, not masses of aliens who didn't know how to stop themselves from reproducing. The quarters had long been stripped of anything of use, well before the Grunts arrived. Empty bed frames were strewn about, all metal with bent and rusting coils. But the Grunts didn't seem to care. Some slept, some scuffled, and some just sat on the floor nibbling on something Noelle couldn't see.

Noelle's hands tightened on her rifle. She wanted to expose herself, screaming at the top of her lungs as she gunned down all of them. They probably wouldn't fight back, the cowards. They'd scramble for cover, but it wouldn't save them. She'd snuff them out, one by one until the entire quarters was silent with their dead bodies and soaked in a swimming pool of their blood. But she knew that was only the hatred talking, fueled by years of flammable memories that only required a spark to ignite.

In another life, in another time, the proud UNSC Marines would've simply called in an air-strike to have the compound obliterated. Longsword bombers would swoop overhead, dropping ordnance before calling it a day. But that wasn't case, and it never would be. Not here. Not where the UNSC erased them from their memory. She wasn't a marine, she wasn't UNSC, she wasn't even a soldier. She was just a 27 year old displaced woman with a rifle who'd spent the last four years on an ice moon 1.4 billion km from her homeworld. Somewhere she imagined her foster mother laughing her head off in hell. You finally got what you deserved, you little brat. Who's laughing now?

Noelle snapped back into reality, and reality was always ugly and unrelenting. Fantasy was always better. But she couldn't see neither her nor Jacen passing by without being spotted. There were just too many of them, too many inquisitive eyes waiting to see something out of the norm, to break their routine. Oh, look, a human!

Jacen crept up behind her and nudged her shoulder with a pair of fingers. "What's up?"

Noelle glanced over her shoulder, shaking her head slowly. "They've got a full congregation in there. They'll notice us."

Jacen switched places with her to see for himself. She was definitely right, overwhelmingly so. But they still had a job to do, and Jacen refused to return to camp without something to show for it. They'd risk too much already. Between the two of them, they may've had three hours of oxygen left, and an additional 30 minutes in the reserves. It took nearly 3/4ths of that to get here. Time wasn't their ally now.

"We'll find another way around, cut through logistics." Jacen took a few steps back from the doorway, rifle at the ready. Noelle didn't reply. He was beginning to think she was ignoring him, but it wasn't until he turned around to see why she hadn't.

A single Grunt, barely an adult, stood wide-eyed in the center of the hall. Its miniscule fingers twitched with anxiety as its beady eyes attempted to make out what it was seeing. A pair of tall bipedal creatures with faces that had reflective eyes, dressed in odd clothing that it had never seen worn before. But they had something in their hands—dark objects that it couldn't readily identify, but they definitely registered as dangerous. It could recall the Elders telling it scary stories of the creatures known as humans; and the creatures standing before it had fit the description quite well. Humans were dangerous, and they killed the Unggoy. Stay away from them! They'll come and get you.

The Grunt turned around, waddling into a frantic sprint with a distressed cry.

No, no, NO! Noelle didn't hesitate for a second. She put two silenced rounds in the Grunt's body. One round hit the top of its back, while the second put its light out with an impact just below the neck. She rushed for the body, moving laterally with her rifle aimed down the vacant hall.

Jacen was right behind her, walking backwards with haste. He nearly stumbled back into Noelle before he caught himself. The Grunts probably heard the screaming, and maybe even the gunshots. A silencer didn't make a rifle's report inaudible; it just cancelled out the sonic boom and muzzle flash. Hear a suppressed gunshot in moderate silence and you'dstillhear the thing. Why did the friggin' alien have to scream?

There was a rising commotion in the personnel quarters. They'd heard something, and Jacen could see the first few stubby shadows cautiously lumbering toward the door's edge.

Jacen let his rifle hang by the tether and hefted then 50lb or so alien in his arms. He needed to stash the body. Noelle was already ahead of him, forcing open a door in the hall from where they'd came. She gestured extravagantly inside. Jacen moved as quickly as he could, nearly slipping on luminous blue blood on the floor. There was nothing he could do about it, had to leave it. He practically slid into the open door, tossing the Grunt's body across the room as Noelle shut the door behind them.

She kept watch through the thin rectangular slit of the window, her chest heaving up and down. She looked back at Jacen, then the Grunt, then the room. It room used to be an office of some sort. The paint had peeled horribly, and the carpet still had indentations from the furniture that was moved out. Years of being exposed to Titan's subzero temperatures had done a number on the structure. Everything felt hard, frozen. Even the carpet felt like concrete.

The Grunts came into view. First one or two, then five, then ten. All of them inspected the fresh blood droplets on the floor. The dead Grunt hadn't been on the ground long enough to cause a considerable blood pool, but it had definitely left enough to know something was up. Noelle doubted they had the habit of leaving blood around. They squeaked among themselves, looking in all directions. She tensed as a few of them began to move near the door. God, she hoped there wasn't a blood trial. Had Jacen checked?

Jacen was looking directly at her when she glanced over at him. It was hard to tell behind is shades, but she was positive his hard, cold eyes were burning through her. In time he looked away, inching near the thin walls to hear on the other side. There was shuffling, no doubt; and they were talking up a storm. If they were human, the main question would center on finding the body. But they weren't humans, so Noelle hoped—prayed—that they weren't smart enough to search every nook and cranny.

Jacen waved his hand in rapid, side to side motions, hoping to gain Noelle's attention through her peripheral. He was hesitant to speak. He knew how far the human voice could carry, even when whispering. Getting caught was the worst possible scenario. The Grunts wouldn't appreciate the humans trespassing on their turf, even though they were the ones that were trespassing in a human-controlled system. But they weren't ready for a full-on assault against the Grunts. Not with their growing numbers. They wouldn't last long in a straight-up fight.

Noelle caught his motion. She held up a finger, eyes trained on the Grunts. They began to disperse, but not out of disinterest, she hated. A single Grunt, larger than the others, bulky silver armor and a full facial breathing mask, barked commands as it pointed its tiny fingers in all directions. Noelle didn't like it. The particular Grunt had pull, authority. All others subjected under it.

She crept back from the door, engaging the old-fashioned push-lock on the handle. The simple click of the locking mechanism seemed thunderous, a ball of marbles clacking on the linoleum. The Grunts didn't seem to notice, but they milled about halls with their tiny heads on obvious swivels.

Don't check the rooms. Don't check the friggin' rooms.

The Grunts began checking the nearby rooms.

Noelle vented a hushed swore so loud that even Jacen heard it. He snapped his head up, grip tightened around his rifle. Crawling over to Noelle, he took an extended look out of the window. The hair on his neck stood straight up, feeling his skin develop chill bumps within the temperate conditions in his fatigues. This was bad. This was really bad. The Grunts were in full-hunter-mode. He marked the holstered plasma pistols on their narrow, turned-in hips. They weren't drawn, as of it. Jacen didn't know whether it was poor discipline or they were just casually checking the area. Whatever their reasoning, guns out would've been first on his list.

One by one, they pushed open the unlocked doors, took a quick peek inside, and moved on. They approached the next door. Noelle tensed. She and Jacen backed up, rifle muzzles fixed on the doorway. If the Grunts managed to get the door open, there were only two options—shoot and run.

A movement shadow darkened the underside of the door and the handle began to jiggle. Jacen's heart wanted out of his chest. Adrenaline dumped into his system. His finger moved inside the trigger guard, grazing the curved sliver of metal that would send a round of lead straight through the first alien face he'd see.

There was a mild amount of chatter on the opposite side. A locked door was probably no big deal, but you move into an abandoned human facility, add power and heating, a door wasn't locked unless you locked it. UNSC security protocols weren't in-use here, and the building was probably stripped of everything of value. Locked doors weren't secrets. Locked doors meant you weren't allowed. Trespassers or not, the Grunts wouldn't tolerate locked doors in their home.

With a metallic screech and cracking wood, the door was thrown open.

Jacen and Noelle started shooting.


	3. Chapter III

**III**

* * *

Noelle recalled her first encounter with the Covenant. An eternity ago it felt like, but it remained fresh in her mind. Always did. You tended to remember most things: the dramatic, the terrifying, the pleasant, the absolute best and the absolute worse. She'd experienced them all, like the five stages of grief. But it was never in order, never unyielding but always consistent.

The encounter, like most, was unfavorable. Jackals was the first species she saw, or the Kig-Yar if one felt obliged to refer to them properly. She never did, as their human-given designation fit them quite well. What better target practice for the savages than to fire upon fleeing humans before their world was ultimately glassed? Mercy killings they certainly weren't, so why exercise restraint when the shoe was on the other foot?

She didn't wait for the first Grunt to hit the floor before she practically lunged into the hall with Jacen behind her. She swept left and she swept fire, pulsing the trigger to her rifle at any movement she could pick up. The cowardly aliens jumped in surprise, turning their backs to run with their arms flailing above their miniscule heads. You never shot someone in the back, not without reason. It was better to face them, to have the decency to look them in the eye before you take their life. Noelle would not use that reasoning; she wouldn't dare, not with any alien.

Swiftly, brutally, and unapologetic, Noelle emptied her magazine into the fleeing backs of a trio of Grunts. Their stout bodies crumbled and dropped to the floor in awkward contortions. Blood streaked out from the bodies, painting the floor around them in spatters. She snatched a full magazine from her chest rig and slammed it home. More Grunts were coming; she could hear them shuffling closer. If they were armed, and pissed, it would be an onslaught they wouldn't survive.

Jacen came out into the hall, eyes immediately marking the dead Grunts. He looked down the opposite end of the hall, his fingers furiously pecking against his thigh. They were in it now; there was no backing out now. Peace wasn't an option now. Maybe it never was. Had to roll with it.

He went up to Noelle, firmly grabbing her shoulder. "We need to leave… now!" He went to where the bodies were, policing the unused plasma pistols they'd dropped. "Gather all the weapons you can. We'll go back the way we came, make a run for the Hog."

Noelle unslung her pack, unzipped it, and threw four of the alien pistols inside before rising quickly at the collected steps of the approaching enemy. She didn't know how many there were of them, but she didn't want to find out.

"I'm right behind you," she said.

Jacen didn't wait to know if that statement was true or not. He pushed forward back toward the vehicle depot, not quite running, but fast enough to get the hell out without any surprises. His mood was volcanic, teetering on the verge of eruption. A simplerecon op. That's all it was supposed to be. Watch the enemy, study the enemy, learned what you can, and then leave. Going inside was a mistake; he'd own up to that, but to go as sideways as it did was unacceptable. He had to calm down. It was okay to have a measure of anger during a fight. It helped fuel you, keep you alive even. But blind rage… blind rage got you killed. Blind rage sent you into the battle unawares and only youto blame if you're killed or responsible for the deaths of others. Jacen had Noelle to thinking about and Noelle had him to think about. They'd get out of this together, as they'd always had.

He turned the next corner, rifle first, and aimed down the ghostly vacant corridor. The vehicle depot was close now, maybe another fifty yards, but they would never get there. A cluster of Grunts, 30 or so, marched from around the corner, all noisy and smothered in their mildew stench. They must've heard the gunshots.

Jacen stopped so abruptly that he nearly pitched forward to fall. "Back up, back up!"

Noelle aimed down her sights but didn't fire. She backpedaled with Jacen, locking eyes with the first few Grunts that were out front. They were armed, from what she could see. If she nor Jacen fired, maybe they'd restrain themselves, too. Dumb thought. The Grunts opened up on them.

Dozens of plasma bolts swarmed the narrow hall like angry bees, buzzing and primed to sting. Metal boiled and sizzled around them, nearly hitting them. Jacen and Noelle managed to draw back into next hall, firing aimlessly as they did so. A smoldering blue orb was flung into the mouth of the hall's fork, mere feet from the human combatants. Jacen's eyes went wide as saucers. He grabbed Noelle by the back of her collar, pulled her behind him, and flung open the nearest door to shield them. The grenade detonated.

A wave of intense heat washed over them as the blast took the door off its hinges and blew the two of them back on the floor. Shards of glass pelted their helmets. Noelle made a guttural groan when Jacen's body landed atop hers, his elbow falling mercilessly into her abdomen. She felt squished, flattened underneath Jacen and the scorched metal door that was leaning off of them.

Jacen hit the door with his left forearm, having to bring over his right arm to successfully push it off of him. He felt Noelle squirming under him with muffled obscenities that he could assume were directed at either him or the hell storm they were suddenly in. Whichever one, he slid off of her and immediately went for his rifle. He shot the first Grunt that wandered around corner. The round ripped through its mask, taking off half of its jaw and sent it spinning to the floor. He unclipped a frag grenade from his belt, one of his only two, primed it, and threw it against the back wall. It bounced off the wall, landing somewhere out of sight. He heard the Grunts yelp before it exploded. Severed limbs and fountains of blood went flying across his eyes. He didn't know how many he'd killed, but it didn't matter. They needed to buy time.

Noelle was on one knee behind him, holding her left arm close to her body with a fist. A shooting pain crawled up into her elbow and flowed through her forearm and bicep. She guessed she must've fallen on it awkwardly when the grenade went off. The discomfort would have to be pushed back, however. Grunts were approaching at the opposite end of the hall. With the exception of the few offices and storage rooms in the hall, there was nowhere else to go if they got boxed in. The Grunts wouldn't need to aim to hit them; they would simply need to all fire relentlessly. She grimaced through the pain, slowly standing with ringing ears an aching jaw from her teeth clattering. She kept telling herself that she wasn't dead, that it wasn't over. Keeping fighting, keep surviving.

Jacen felt something brush up against him. He didn't turn around, but simply shouted over the gunfire that was his own. "We need an escape route, ASAP!"

"Like I don't know that." Noelle fought through the disorientation, wanting the urge to spit the blood out from her mouth. She swallowed it down, her body nearly bringing it back up. The halls up ahead contained the personnel quarters that was overflowing with the curious, while the hall behind them was buzzing with the pissed. Either way, they would have to fight their way out. Playing it by the numbers was best, and there were more of them headed her way than the ones in front of Jacen. It'd be close, but running was better than nothing.

She took a few steps back until she was shoulder to shoulder with Jacen. A few Grunts came into the hall from her end. She fired a few warning shots, discouraging their progress. "Gimmie numbers. How many on your end?"

Jacen reloaded his rifle with a huff of irritation. He blindly fired around the corner before stealing a quick look. "Maybe ten or twelve."

"Are we clear left?" Noelle asked next.

"Ja, it's clear."

Noelle reloaded her rifle. She frowned menacingly; it was her second to the last clip. That wasn't going to be enough to last her through this, and she couldn't leave the gun behind. They couldn't be replaced as easily as they were before. She clipped the rifle back on her vest with its tether and let it hang, opting for her sidearm.

"I'll give you some cover fire. Find us an exit."

"All right." Jacen ceased fire to reload, down to his last clip himself. Fourteen shots, plus one in the chamber. It was shaping up to be one of those days. He dared not the jinx the ordeal by thinking it couldn't get any worse. Any situation could always regress.

"Go, go, GO!" Noelle screamed, letting go a volley of burst shots.

Jacen shot off his back foot, rounding the corner and spearheaded down the empty left hall. There were no doors on either side, just faded arrows and words that were no longer legible. Kept running. The hall ended with shut double doors. Jacen lowered his shoulder and went through them, falling forward. He was instantly hit with a blistering chill, the gel layer in his undersuit failing to regulate his temperature from the colliding mixture of sticky hot humidity and a sudden, winter-like chill.

At first glance, he caught of sight of machines, generators, humming noisily despite the gunfire from Noelle. He didn't see any Grunts, for now. It appeared empty. He shot up to his feet, firing a trio of shots toward a Grunt in Noelle's blindside.

"Got an exit. Get moving!"

Noelle chucked the empty clip from her sidearm at one of the fleeing midgets and ran for the open door ahead of her. It only took her a few seconds to reach the door and grab Jacen's outstretched hand, but it felt like an eternity in her mind. Every stride was met with plasma being shot at her: over her shoulders, around her feet, sizzling past her head. All near-misses. The second Jacen latched onto her hand, she was pulled in and shoved into the room as he quickly shut the doors.

"Barricade the door!" Jacen said, turning every which of way in search of anything of use.

Noelle pushed herself off the back wall, struggling to catch her breath. She holstered her pistol, unable to see anything that could barricade the door. The only thing in the room were a trio of 3 foot tall generators lined up against the wall, a few desks that were bolted to the floor that Jacen was struggling to uproot from the concrete, something in the far corner that looked like an oversized hot water heater and—

—Noelle didn't move, entranced. She didn't know what she was seeing, not exactly. It appeared suddenly, silently, and without notice. Her voice was caught in throat. She wanted to shout, to scream at Jacen, but nothing came out. Would it attack?

"Jacen…" she managed to utter, though she doubted he heard her. He continued to wrestle with the desk, eventually kicking in the thin legs and collapsing one side. She raised her voice, but only slightly. "Jacen."

"We gotta get that door blocked!" persisted Jacen. He moved to the other side and began to the other legs.

"JACEN!" Noelle barked.

That got Jacen's attention. He retired from her onslaught against the desk, facing Noelle with a heaving chest and hunched shoulders. "What?"

Noelle timidly pointed behind him.

The anxiety in Jacen's chest tightened. Hands that were once balled into his blood-choking fists were loose and open, wet from the sweat within the gloves. He didn't want to turn around, expecting to feel the heat from a kamikaze Grunt standing behind him with its beady eyes brimming with satisfaction. But there was no heat and there was no Grunt. There was only the steady chill in the air. Noelle's hands-by-her-side stance was enough for him to build up enough courage to look, for he knewher gun would've been up if it was anything else. So he turned around.

Jacen didn't exactly know what he was looking at. It seemed like something out of a child's imagination, something unreal and mythical but somewhat terrifying. He could only describe the creature as a floating eel protruding from a jagged cocoon like a hermit crab. Its long, bluish-purple neck ended in a small head with six black eyes, while four tentacles hung below an open cavity in its body. The entire creature looked disgusting, slimy and obviously unworldly. But its appearance wasn't what worried Jacen; it was its reaction. He couldn't count on his hand how many times the Covenant flagrantly ignored him, because it never happened.

The alien was completely oblivious to the humans standing in front of it. And from what they could notice, it didn't care about the obvious firefight that was happening. Casually, it floated between the generators that were infused with Covenant tech, which more than explained how the Grunts were thriving. It was ingenious, really. Years, decades, had passed before humanity was able to either adapt or reverse-engineer Covenant technology to suit their needs. This thing had done it overwhelming ease. It tinkered and tested the generators, making small adjustments before moving over to the oversized water heater.

It was then the odd alien snaked its head around and looked at them. Jacen took a step back, holding an iron grip on his rifle. Noelle had shifted to the right, using the generator closest to her for cover as she took out her pistol. The creature didn't appear to have any weapons, but that didn't meant it was any less dangerous. If it made a move, Noelle wouldn't hesitate. But nothing happened. The alien turned its back to them and began syphoning off measures of liquid methane that was stored in a container. Liter by liter, the alien pumped the methane into the metal cylinder, while opening and closing a vent that sat atop the coned-shaped head of the cylinder.

Jacen dared to venture closer, stealing a look over his shoulder to make sure the Grunts hadn't come through.

Noelle came out from behind the generator. "What are you doing?"

"I think this thing is responsible for creating the atmosphere in here." Jacen was within ten yards of the alien. It regarded him with another sidelong look and continued working. "It's repurposed our oxygenator to convert the methane into gas. Check your atmospheric readings."

Noelle grumbled. They didn't have time for this. The Grunts would be pushing through at any moment, but she went ahead and checked her suit's readings. The concentration of methane in the air was exceedingly higher in the room than it was in the other parts of the facility, juggling between 88 and 89%. "Yeah, the air is saturated in it. I guess that explains why the Grunts have survived this long. But as fascinating as this is, we need to quit this place and get back to the Hog, yeah?"

Jacen was now standing directly beside the alien. There was no aggression, nor an attempt to move him out of the way. The alien simply worked around him, not missing a beat in its fluid motions. "Yeah. There's another exit over here. We'll see if we can loop back around to the depot, or find another way out altogether."

"I say we go for the latter." Noelle jogged up to where he was, checking out the exit door for herself. It opened up and she went through, scanning both ways. "It's clear… for now. Now's our best chance, Jacen."

"Do you think we should kill it?" Jacen thought out loud. "Grunts probably won't survive long without its help."

Noelle thought about it, but would it really change anything. The alien already created a breathable atmosphere for the Grunts using the dated oxygenator, which she thought was impossible. They could destroy it, preventing the alien from using it again. The atmosphere would slowly decay as Titan's natural atmosphere seeped inside. Over time, the Grunts would asphyxiate and die. Problem solved, she supposed.

"Do whatever you think is best," she told Jacen. "Grunts are gonna be—"

—An emerald flash occurred behind him as the doors to the room blew inward. The silver-armored Grunt scuttled in, holding a fuel rod cannon on its right shoulder. It cried out with horrid screech of a scream. A squad of lesser Grunts piled in behind it, all emitting the same battle cry.

"Run. RUN!" Noelle grabbed Jacen and shoved him out into the hall. She fired a few aimless shots and went out herself. Plasma struck the wall where she once was. The alien floated closer to the oxygenator as the Grunts scurried past it.

In the hall, Jacen and Noelle ran until they were clear of the generator room. Noelle was out in front as Jacen brought up the rear. He looked behind him, seeing nothing but another flash of green ejected from the fuel rod cannon. It impacted the side of the wall just south of them, sending a wave of concussive heat over them. Jacen maintained his footing, stumbling a bit. "Keep running!" He yelled. "They're right behind us."

Noelle hadn't the faintest clue where she was going. One wrong turn and they'd be moving deeper into the compound. The end of the hall was coming up fast with another fork. Left or right? Right or left? Christ, why didn't they have schematics to this place? She went left, suddenly catching sight of a Grunt that was coming around the very corner she was going. The two of them collided.

Noelle spun off the 4'6" alien and went to the floor, her lower half aching from slamming into the thing. The Grunt had fallen on its back, squirming like an overturned turtle. Jacen couldn't slow down fast enough before reaching the collision. He hurdled over Noelle, going shoulder-first into the back wall. He bounced off and hit the floor with a hard thud. His visor cracked and his teeth went deep into his lip. The taste of copper was prevalent in his mouth, feeling the warm blood slide down his chin.

"Kill the humans!"squawked a nearby Grunt.

One jumped on Jacen's body, linking its bulbous hands around his neck and began to squeeze. He felt its claws dig into the material, inching into his skin as he felt his airways being blocked. The little alien was stronger than he anticipated, and with most of its muscles in its bulging forearms, Jacen was surprised it hadn't broken his neck on initial contact. His windpipe was crumbling and his lungs were set aflame from the lack of oxygen. He tried to see where Noelle was, but all he could see was the Grunt baring its miniscule teeth with a menacing glare of fiery hatred in its eyes. It was a look Jacen was all-too familiar with: the rage, the despair, the pain, the vengeance—all rolled up into a single look that could fuel you to bring your enemy to destruction.

But the Grunt's face dropped, its eyes cold and its mouth slacked open. The pressure around his neck eased as a knife protruded from the soft muscle behind the Grunt's jaw. The knife was ripped out as fast as it was plunged in, spraying atrial blood across Jacen's shades.

Noelle grabbed the Grunt's needler from its waist and mule-kicked it from atop Jacen. She emptied the weapon into the faces and torsos of massing Grunts, watching the pink needles make contact and detonate in their flesh. Jacen went into a coughing spell below her, struggling to pull enough air into his body. Noelle tossed the needler away, hooked her arms underneath Jacen's armpits, and pulled his 215lb body from the middle of the hall. She positioned him against the wall, knelling down in front of his face.

"Hey…" She slapped the side of Jacen's face. "You good, you alive in there?"

Jacen finished his spasms of gut-wrenching coughing, downgrading to wheeze with a near incomprehensible voice. "They're cold…"

Noelle leaned closer to him. His voice was as if he'd swallowed glass. "They're what now?"

"They're bodies!" Jacen got up, staggering with his first few steps. He picked up a pair of plasma pistols, handed one to Noelle. "They're cold to the touch. They must've just come… from outside."

Noelle went to the edge of the wall and glanced around the corner. The Grunts, led by the psycho in silver armor, were closing the gap. She turned to face Jacen. "Then we know where to go. Ready, or do you wanna get choked out by a child-sized alien again?"

Jacen rummaged around in his gear like a smoker searching frantically for his lighter. "Hold on, I think I gave something for you." He shot up his middle finger. "After you."


	4. Chapter IV

**IV**

* * *

The Unggoy were diligent, if nothing else.

In the midst of the human attack, a few of the hardly aliens remained in their place around one of the methane pools around the compound. Their orders were clear: harvest the liquid life and transport it to the Huragok to process. Their lives depended on their efforts, which gave them a sense of pride above the others. They worked while their fellow brethren fought over food and mating rights. There was so more on this desolate human moon than squabbling. No, their chances weren't great for survival, but they were making it work.

But a great deal commotion was rumbling from within the compound. Gunshots. Explosions. Faint screams. Maybe they needed to halt their work efforts for the moment, see if the others needed help exterminating the human invaders. The humans were a sturdy bunch, fast and hard to kill. They were smart, too, just like the Sangheili, but greatly less intimidating. The pounding was growing louder and louder, building up until it reached its crescendo.

A pair of doubled doors, sealed to keep the compound's atmosphere from venting, was blown out in an emerald explosion of light. The two humans stammered out, rolling down the downward incline before frantically scrambling to their feet. Unggoy were in pursuit, hot on their intrusive heels. It was settled. Harvesting the methane would could wait. The humans needed to die.

Cover was scarce, and only sliver of protection Jacen and Noelle could find was a humming, generator of thing that the Grunts weren't too pleased they were hiding behind. It was Covenant tech for sure: smooth surface, indigo in color, and florescent lights running down its body. A flexible hose extended from its body that disappeared into the methane pool below. Measures of the colorless liquid was dumped into containers behind the machine, but they were beginning to overflow.

The Grunts around the pool held their fire, begun to spread out to flank them. They wouldn't risk damaging their precious machine. Jacen didn't share their pattern of thinking. He slipped his hand into his chest rig, folding his hand around his last frag grenade. In a smooth, non-threatening gesture, he eased the explosive underneath the machine with his thumb against the release.

"We take off around the backside of the building. We'll keep going until we reach the depot."

Noelle sighed grievously. "You're gonna have every Grunt in this place wanting our heads."

Jacen gave a nonchalant shrug. "They can get in line."

He hit the release and turned to run with Noelle already ahead of him. The Grunts around the pool scrambled across the slush-like terrain and lumbered after them with guns blazing. Out of the mangled doors came the rest of them, the silver Grunt leading the charge. It caught a glimpse of the humans in the corner of its eye, disappearing around the corner of the building.

" _Back inside_ ," it commanded. " _We cut them off_."

The silver Grunt and its companions were thrown back inside the compound by the detonated grenade. A brilliant explosion of cerulean and red-orange heat curled up, the frigid air extinguishing it almost suddenly. The methane harvesting machine was eviscerated, leaving behind smoking particles and bent components.

The silver Grunt rocked its way upright, staggering to the left and to the left before finding its equilibrium. Gray smoke ascended from the remains of the machine, coupled with hundreds of gallons of wasted methane that was lost forever. The silver Grunt hammered its fists into the ground repeatedly, picked up its cannon, and shoved its underlings aside. "We kill them. We kill them now!"

Noelle and Jacen slowed up about halfway around the compound, recharging what little energy they had left. They still had a ways to go. The compound was quadrilateral in shape with irregular additions jutting out. It turned a simple round trip into a zig-zag fest where every corner could've potentially housed a threat. Architecture at its worst, Noelle thought. She checked their oxygen levels: She was holding at 8%, while Jacen's had dropped to 6%. That was roughly less than fifteen minutes of air until they could fill up at the Hog, which was a ten minute hike from the compound. Why'd they have to park so far?

They made it around to the vehicle depot without incident, only to be hindered by the expanse of open ground in front of them. Jacen knelt at the depot's edge, peering across the asphalt road and out into the Titan landscape. To simply run was the obvious choice, but it meant they would be easiest targets to take down. With no viable cover to speak of, save for the checkpoint booth, there was nothing to protect them from enemy fire. Grunts may've been cowardly and individually weak, but that didn't automatically make them bad shots. Even a novice could hit a target in the open.

"So…?" Noelle squeezed through heavy breaths.

Jacen got on his hands and knees, creeping forward to steal a look inside the depot. A few Grunts were wandering about inside, holding carbines loosely in their hands. Some kicked and meddled with the old Warthogs near them, grumbling and squeaking in their tongue. If they were waiting to ambush them, then maybe it was time to flip the script.

Jacen slid back into a crouch. "There are some in the depot. I don't know how many—three or four."

Noelle tightened the straps on her pack and checked the battery on her plasma pistol. Good enough. "We can take 'em. Quick sweep, then make a run for it."

Jacen agreed. He snatched his knife from the sheath on his chest, a serrated six inch blade with "REAPER" carved into the metal. Reaper in hand, he looked over his shoulder at Noelle and nodded.

They sneaked inside the depot, each taking one side of the room. Jacen crept alongside one of the Warthogs, taking one of the Grunts that was standing near its hood. He sunk the blade into alien's throat, sliding through the flesh and vocal chords like a tender steak. Taking its carbine, he eased its body quietly on the floor.

The other Grunts were harder to reach, standing on the platform in front of the airlock. There were three of them. Noelle had wedged herself between the wall and a diagnostic worktable, just wide enough for her slender frame to fit through. A collection of stripped and rusted screws and washers were strewn by her feet. She picked up a handful of them and, gearing her hand back to thrown them. She never would.

The airlock's doors barely parted open before the silver Grunt and its companions rushed through. The underlings in the depot shrieked, startled. One dropped its weapon and scrambled to pick it up. Growls came from the silver Grunt. It shoved aside one of the three, spitting out orders that sent the subordinates running to their positions.

Noelle tensed. One of the munchkins was about to waddle past the workstation. It was now or never. They weren't going anywhere until they cleared the depot. When the Grunt came within striking distance, Noelle forced all 125lbs of her mass into the workstation, tipping it over on the Grunt. It cried out from the station crashing down on its legs. She shot the thing point blank with the plasma pistol before unloading the rest of the battery on the seven total Gas-breathers on the platform.

The Grunts dispersed, firing in Noelle's general direction.

Jacen vented a slew of expletives. So much for a 'quick sweep' Noelle suggested. He stood up, alien carbine in hand, and gutted open a Grunt pair that had clustered together. Their bodies dropped, one of them rolling off the platform. The next thing he saw was just an intense light and the sudden sensation he was airborne. A dismembered wheel smacked against him, throwing him across the grease-stained floor in a continuous roll. Something hard ceased his tumble, igniting an explosion of pain. The Warthogs that were inside were blown into contortion; one inverted, the other on its side against the wall.

He secured his fingers around the carbine, rolling the hell out of dodge and underneath the inverted Hog. On his knees just below the passenger seat, he struggled to concentrate through the shaky, cloudy vision. His body was running absent from his mind as it lagged to catch up to what was happening. There was just noise. And then there was the malady of pain cradling his torso. It felt like his ribs. Whether bruised or broken, he'd have to assess it later. For now, he had to wrap his mind around the fact a bulky, gauntleted hand had seized his left ankle and proceeded to pull aggressively.

Jacen was yanked out from underneath the Warthog by one of the Grunts who stuck its alien pistol directly against the faceplate of his helmet. He had the presence of mind to swat the thing's forearm before the luminous orb of charged plasma boiled through his faceplate and subsequent face. Snatching his M40 sidearm, he pulled the trigger three times. He didn't know where the bullets landed, but they must've hit their mark. Florescent gore coated his clothing as the full weight of the Grunt fell atop his body, dead. He shoved it off and stood up without being aware of it. Three Grunts, seemingly in unison, jerked their heads around to flag him and immediately started shooting. Jacen's heart rocketed into his throat and he dropped to the floor as plasma crisscrossed overhead.

Another boom.

The adjacent Warthog was blown in fractions across the depot. Glass, metal, rubber, and parts went in every direction. Jacen covered his head with his thoughts running straight to Noelle. Just where the hell was she. Was she alive, injured, hiding? It could've been possibly all the above, but he just hoped she wasn't dead. He wouldn't let his fears run wild. Until he saw a body, she was alive and fighting.

The Grunts were moving in now, cautious and trigger-happy. Every spark or perceived threat was met with gunfire. Jacen scooped up the alien carbine and crawled out from under the vehicle, strafing right as he aimlessly fired onto the Grunts. He slid feet-first behind the burning mass of the second Warthog that was a twisted shell of itself. There was still no sign of Noelle.

"Noelle, you copy me?" He fired over his head, feeling the vibrations from the plasma impacts from the opposite side. "Give me something. Anything."

An acknowledgement light winked once in the bottom right corner of his HUD.

Jacen thought it may've been a stray spark, maybe a flare from the nearby flames. But then the light winked again, then twice more in rapid succession a full second later. He finally exhaled the roiling angst inside his body, only for it be replaced with a knotted sensation in his gut. He rose up amidst the hellish gunfire and lined down his. The Grunt in the silver armor had ditched its fuel rod cannon—thankfully—and resumed its onslaught with a needler. Two more were by its side. Jacen dropped one of them with a few shots before having to retreat into cover.

And then Noelle appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Where she'd been hiding remained a mystery to Jacen, but he didn't ask any question. He just watched. The woman bolted against the Grunts' blindside, jumped up onto the platform, and shot down the Grunt that was on the right. She threw the empty plasma pistol at the silver armored alien, knocking off its aim before it could fire back. Like some type of battering ram, Noelle plowed her body into the Grunt. Its carbine went flying as the two of them fell together. She recovered, wrapped her arms around the midget's neck and began to squeeze.

The Grunt squirmed and bucked like an unbroken stallion, gargling to breath. It lunged back with incredible strength, backpedaling into the wall and dislodged its human attacker. Spinning around, it lashed out with a vicious forearm swing and connected against Noelle's hip. The hit took her down to the floor as the Grunt clawed its way on top of her. It furiously hammered her blow after blow like an incensed ape, striking any opening it could fire. Noelle could only hold her arms up, protecting her head as the Grunt used her body as its personal punching bag,

Jacen sprinting across the depot, vaulted onto the platform, and leapt on the Grunt's back to pull it off. The alien was no deterred. It shook him off, throwing an elbow back and hit him dead center in his chest. The air was snatched from his lungs as he was thrown back, and the Grunt went back to clobbering Noelle. Jacen sat with, fighting to restore the captive breath to his lungs. He went for his knife, crawled on his hands and knees back to the Grunt, and jammed the blade so far into its neck that a portion of the hilt went into the skin. He snatched the knife out at an angle, taking an artery with it.

The silver Grunt convulsed with a nauseating choking cry and fell off of Noelle before slowly dying. A wheezing Jacen made it over to Noelle, said nothing, and extended his hand to her. She took it in silence as they helped one another to their feet, her hip nearly giving out on the way up. Jacen stretched her right arm over his shoulder and hobbled down the few steps from the platform to the floor.

"Can you walk?" he asked her.

"Screw walking." She slid her arm from his shoulders. "We gotta run. More'll come."

"Get out in front." Jacen positioned her out in front of him. "I'm right behind you."

It was an ugly, hard run back to the Hog. They made it out pass the checkpoint booth and out into the vast emptiness. The hike through the slush-like soil aggravated every nick, bruise, and injury they'd sustained. They kept running, occasionally looking back to make sure they weren't being followed. Thin wisps of smoke slowly vented from the distant vehicle depot of the compound was growing smaller and smaller as they went. It was difficult not to think about the possible repercussions. To say the raid when sideways was a gross understatement. They'd get an earful when they got back to camp, but Jacen pushed the thoughts in the dark recesses of his mind.

The Hog was sitting right where they left it. Jacen went through the mandatory checklist: engine, hydraulics, brakes, fuel, and the all-important heater that kept everything from freezing. Everything was operational. He pulled himself into the driver's seat with various grunts, expletives, and a permanent grimace. Noelle tossed her pack full of Covenant weaponry in the back and struggled into the seat next to Jacen. She reached for the oxygen canisters behind her seat and handed one to him. It was enough to get them back to camp but nothing more.

Jacen just sat there for a few moments. His hands still shook from the adrenaline that had yet to ebb its way out of his system. He figured it wouldn't for some time. So much had been risked, and the reward didn't seem to measure up to what had transpired. It mattered, but would it give them an edge? He doubted it. If anything, it may've made their lives worse. He laughed inwardly. As if their lives could get any worse than it already was. Silver lining. There was one somewhere, although Jacen had a difficult time chiseling away thick crust of doubt to see it. He eventually started the engine, realizing he'd been idle for longer than he expected. The engine rumbled and the tires began to roll, clogged with the dirt between the treads.

The ride back to camp was a quiet one. There was plenty to discuss, but the two of them kept their thoughts to themselves. Jacen had more frustration than anything, aimed pointedly at the individual in the passenger side. She was reckless today, overwhelmingly so. Confidence wasn't a trait they lacked as fighters, but at what cost does that confidence spill over into carelessness? He wouldn't bring it to her attention, not now. They were too tired, too chewed up. Volatile was the best word to encapsulate it. He kept his foot firmly on the gas, pushing through the mostly flat, empty place that felt oddly claustrophobic. Just hundreds of miles of browns and oranges and whites. He wouldn't know his reaction if he ever set his eyes on a blue sky again, or a full view of the sun.

The sweeping dunes and lowland hills eventually gave way to flatter land. Travelling northwest for several hours brought them back to familiarity. Frozen, ill-maintained antenna dishes with collapsed receivers dotted the outside of their path. A downed Pelican, damaged beyond repair, lay nose-first in the ground with blackened rust on its exterior. It was a fitting symbol.

A distant fence line enlarged as they approached, encircling three, interconnected dome structures of frozen steel and iron and concrete. The central building came into view first, just two stories high with a sweeping crest of metal over its entry way. It was only when they drove up to the main gate that they saw the remaining two buildings—one-story trapezoids that extended less than fifty yards from the center structure.

There was no movement outside, but that was no surprise. No one was outside unless it was mandatory. A pair of lookouts stood atop a makeshift watchtower that was nothing but an empty cargo trailer with handholds cut into the metal. They looked down at the decelerating Hog through the sights of their rifles and made confirmation. One of them climbed down from the trailer, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and jogged over to the gate. He picked up the fist-sized lock dangling from a thick chain rope that kept the gate closed, slipping a transparent card with a barcode into the slit on the underside of the lock. The lock popped open with a muted vibration. With a screech, the gate retracted by the sentry's hands and the Hog drove through before it was locked back.

Jacen followed the cracked and broken asphalt that snaked through the camp, branching out to the left and to the right. He veered right toward the east building, looping around the front before riding down its body until turning into an open garage. The door rolled down behind them, sealed. He parked the Hog between a pair of UNSC Warthog variants and cut the engine. The two of them sat quietly for a few seconds, hearing the hissing of the Titan atmosphere being absorbed and replaced with oxygen and nitrogen.

Jacen released the seals on the underside of his helmet and removed it. He squinted his eyes in the artificial light, feeling an irritation atop his right eye. A look in the rearview mirror showed an acute laceration that began to bleed lightly to the touch. He rubbed the back of his aching neck, leaning back in his seat to stare at the ceiling lined with dead and dying lights. The strength to move his legs just wasn't there. He just wanted to sit, to rest, to bask in the silence.

Noelle was gingerly removing her gloves, one finger at a time before easing her helmet off. She took in a few wet sniffs, smelling the cold that stung her sinuses. Her joints complained when she moved, but her focus remained locked on the next step. You couldn't live one day at a time, hoping everything would pan out on its own. No, that wasn't the way she nor Jacen saw things. No one did. It wasn't a luxury. Fighting and surviving in the all-but-gone outer colonies taught you that. She wondered how many of the inner colonies were left. Had the Covenant found Earth? She put it out of her mind.

"Hey." Noelle knocked her knuckles on the windshield.

Jacen turned to face her, unenthused.

She stared back into his cold bluish-grey eyes, suddenly trying to deduce whether he was simply exhausted or royally pissed. It was a tossup, or probably both. She'd know sooner or later. "You know he's waiting for us." She collected the pack of stolen alien weaponry and threw it across her back, moving strains of her sweat-drenched obsidian hair from her olive skinned face. "What do we tell him?"

Jacen considered her question, raking his fingers through his scruffy beard. If it was up to him, he wouldn't say anything. No news was good news, right? Wrong. The op wasn't a complete disaster but it wasn't a success, either. They'd started a conflict with an enemy that had shown in the past how they'd react; and billions had died because of that reaction. If the _kak_ hadn't already hit the fan, it was about to.

Jacen got out of the Hog and retrieved his rifle along with his helmet. He looked across the way at Noelle who hadn't averted her brown eyes from him since she asked the question. "We tell him the truth."


	5. Chapter V

**V**

* * *

The pungent smell of cigarette smoke was prevalent in the large, cleared out office. It wasn't much to look out, just chairs and tables pushed into the corners to give way to a few HD monitors, a tactical map of the moon and the surrounding system. A poor man's command center. Smoking usually went against every known regulation enforced by the UNSC, but they weren't around to enforce anything. No _traditional_ rules existed anymore. No strict protocols, no absurd regulations, no hierarchy to answer to when foul-ups happened. All such matters were handled within the camp, no outside influence coercing a decision. And strangely enough, that's the way Rey Anderton preferred it.

The UNSC Army Captain leaned his hip against one of the discarded desks of hard, antique oak, just barely making out the colossal gas giant through the thick haze. It was something hypnotic about the ringed planet that had a calming effect on him. And nowadays, remaining calm was something of a farfetched emotion within a mythical realm that was just out of reach. He took a quick drag from the lit cigarette between his thumb and index finger, blinking away the smoke that curled back into his eyes.

"Captain Anderton."

Out of mere instinct, Rey's head jerked in the direction of the voice. A cube object descended beside him, its face nothing more than a screen with streaming data. It was gunmetal grey and about the size of a Rubik's cube with a dozen micro propulsion units across its body that glowed blue when used. "Yes, DEV."

"Jacen Pearce and Noelle Sanchez have returned from the Unggoy settlement. They're on their way now," DEV reported.

Rey vented smoke from his nostrils; he didn't realize he was holding his breath. They'd made it back alive. Good. He wet his lips. "Thank you."

"Of course." DEV flew a few feet away before whirling back around back to Rey's side. "I can recommend an alternative. Vapor, perhaps?" A miniscule metal arm unfolded from the cube's body with grippers on the end and gestured to the cigarette in Rey's mouth. "I can dispose of it, if you like."

Rey jerked his head back, waving his hand at the cube as if it was an irritating house fly. The A.I. had been pestering him for weeks to quit. It was a nasty habit, he admitted; and he was positive it was going to kill him one day. But he simply enjoyed the fragrance, the taste. The brand had a certain sweet flavor to it, which gave the nicotine a pleasurable feel in the mouth. Sure, his lungs were being slowly torched, but smoking wasn't necessarily a death sentence like it was in the 21st century. New additives and chemicals were infused with the nicotine, prolonging the inevitable and cutting smoke-related diseases by 25%. "A safer cigarette," the tobacco companies called it. He didn't care; kill him or not, it was his vice.

"Save it, DEV."

DEV retracted his arm, flashing a sad face emoticon on the screen. "Good health leads to success, and we need success."

Rey pursed his lips. "Good health isn't synonymous with success. I guess you never heard of Stephen Hawking, genius."

"Are you insulting my intelligence due to my limited memory processing matrix, or in the sense of my intelligence? Because I can assure you, compared to _human_ intelligence—"

"I got it, DEV," Rey severed.

He was beginning to regret allowing the techs to give the A.I. a physical form to move around in. It only made him more unbearable, and if he was a 'Smart' A.I., he would've been long deactivated from rampancy. But in hindsight, however, they would've been long dead without him. His vast knowledge of the moon, the facility, and various protocols were too invaluable to neglect. Putting up with his attitude was a sad consequence.

The doors, then, opened to the office and Jacen and Noelle came walking—hobbling—through. Their appearance gave Rey pause to respond. They were chewed up, skin blotched with fresh bruises, cuts, and mild swelling. How they were still standing was beyond him, which immediately registered to him that the initial strategy of _stealth_ hadn't succeeded. A dozen questions came to his mind, but he held them down until the proper time. A simple debriefing would have to suffice for now.

Rey finished off his cigarette, putting it out in the receptacle of ashes and derelict butts. "You made it back." He turned around, leaning against the table with his arms crossed, eyes switching targets between the two of them. "So… what did we learn about our enemy?"

Jacen was half-surprised at the initial question. He was expecting a lecture of what the meaning of _stealth_ meant, as was the raid was based on. But he figured Rey had known them long enough to spot the obvious and choose not to bring it to light. There wasn't a doubt in his mind, though, that Rey wasn't going to let it slide.

He removed weighty pack from his shoulder and set it down on a nearby table. The smell of simmering coffee tickled his nose, opted to ignore it. He coughed with his fist over his mouth, feeling his sternum ache from the blow the Grunt had delivered. "We know that they've learned from Aaron's group. They had lookouts, boosted defenses. _Definitely_ more of them are armed now."

Rey seemed to ingest what was said, rocking his torso from side to side. "That's to be expected, considering…" He went over to the coffee pot, drawing a pair of foam cups from the stack beside it and pouring a humble measure inside. "What was their reaction when they spotted you?"

The question came out so routine, so calmly that he could've insulted them and they wouldn't have known it until it was too late to react. He went up to them and placed the warm cups in their hands before going to over stand on the opposite end of the table.

"One of them saw us," Noelle spoke. She took a lengthy sip, exhaling as the hot liquid coursed down her throat and through her body. "It was a youngster, probably didn't know what it was seeing. It turned to run. I shot it, hence our blown cover." She finished off the coffee and crumbled the cup in her gloves.

Jacen shifted his boots, gently moving the cup to whirl its contents. He knew that tone of Noelle's. It meant she wasn't going to apologize for what went down; it meant that if she could go back in time, she wouldn't change a thing. And maybe that was okay. They were all adults capable of making their own split-second decisions, whether advised or ill-advised.

Rey didn't seem to have a reaction to it. He simply moved on, grabbing Jacen's bag and pulling it over to him. "It was unlikely you'd make it out without being detected." He searched the bag's contents, grabbing the two plasma carbines by the barrels and setting them out in the light. They were in good condition, save for the low ammunition "Were you able to find any more weapons?"

"Yeah." Noelle unshouldered her own pack, dumping out seven plasma pistols that varied in battery life out on the table. They clanged against the metal, wobbling and spinning before coming to rest on their sides. "Coupled with what we've already recovered, we should have a decent armory now."

Rey inspected the pistols with mild interest, picking a few of them up for a closer look. A sliver of him always felt _off_ about handling Covenant weaponry, like some sort of traitor to his species. But what would they rely upon once their _own_ weapons ran out of ammunition to feed them? He wasn't going to sit around and find out, not with the Grunts out there with a possible agenda on their hands.

"How aggressively did the Grunts fight back once they knew you were there?"

Noelle believed it to be a silly question. What did he really expect their answer to be? That the Grunts weren't hostile, that they'd suddenly forgotten the war between the two of them just because they were both stranded together? Aggressive didn't seem like the right word to encompass the ordeal. The Grunts wanted _blood_. It wouldn't have surprised her if the Grunts had captured them, kept them alive, and tortured them. Their level of tenacity and rage couldn't be measured.

"They certainly wanted us dead." Jacen finally extracted a portion of his coffee, the heat stinging fresh cuts in his mouth from the self-inflicted bites he sustained. "They didn't hold back. Gave us everything they had just short of an all-out assault. They may be suffering from our same plight: lack of weapons. All of them weren't armed. If they were, I doubt we'd be standing here discussing this."

"Any chance they retaliate, come after us?" It was a question Rey didn't want to ask, mostly because it scared the hell out of him. He had first-hand knowledge of what an army of Grunts were capable of: a near unstoppable legion that beat you by numbers and not strategy. They wouldn't last long if that happened.

"Not likely," Jacen answered with a gentle shrug. "I wouldn't rule it out, though. We killed one of them, looked like it was a rank above the others. Maybe you know more."

Rey eyed Jacen, intrigued. "What'd it look like?"

Jacen gestured toward the cigarette pack bulging from Rey's right breast-pocket. "Silver armor, facial helmet, and a more… cylindrical tank on its back. Armored hunchback of Notre Titan, maybe."

Rey handed Jacen a single cigarette, chewing the side of his lower lip. He retrieved his nickel lighter, flipping the hinge up to light it. "You two just killed yourself a commanding officer in the Grunt world. I didn't encounter many in my service, maybe two. Tough little monsters."

Noelle cut her eyes at Jacen for a split-second before settling them on Rey with mild concern. "Is that good for us?"

She didn't how it could've been. The inner workings within the Covenant were completely unknown to her, but history was rout with examples of conflicts being ignited from high-ranking individuals being killed. Wasn't this the perfect motivation for the Grunts to mobilize against them? Maybe they should consider taking the fight to them, finishing them off before they strike first.

"It could be," Rey surmised. "Or maybe this'll provoke 'em. They know where we are, but so do we. We can only hope they're scrambling now, trying to rebuild. They won't be coming after us anytime soon." He looked at the two of them, resolute. There was no need to lose sleep over this. "Know that."

Jacen and Noelle said nothing in reply. They only nodded between themselves.

"Good." Rey knocked his knuckles once on the surface of the table. He rested his right hand atop his massive revolver hanging within its holster around his waist, picking at the imaginary crud underneath his fingernails. "What else did you find?"

Noelle scratched her sweaty scalp with an eye pinched close. "We know how they're thriving now." She waved the cigarette smoke from around her, taking a step away from Jacen. "They've created their own atmosphere inside. Perfect conditions for 'em. They're also breeding like crazy. We're outnumbered already."

Rey wasn't concerned about the breeding, not enough for it to garner his full attention. It didn't matter if their numbers were growing. They didn't have the support of the Covenant, their equipment, weapons, training, or direction. As far as he was concerned, the Grunts produced non-combative offspring that weren't a threat. But _creating_ their own breathable atmosphere? _That_ had certainly got his attention.

"There ain't no way in hot sauce hell they're smart enough to engineer their own atmosphere."

"That's what we thought, too," Jacen echoed. "Turns out they have this… _thing_ helping them. We came across it after everything went sideways. I'm guessing it was responsible for creating the atmosphere." He stopped talking, realizing Rey hadn't averted his eyes since he'd started his explanation. It was a solid look of extreme interest, and Jacen could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He knew something. "D'you know what this thing is?"

Rey looked away, blinking rapidly. Cleared his throat. "Humor me. This _thing_ … did it happen to resemble a snake with tentacles, having a hermit crab type of situation going on?"

Jacen and Noelle's eyes met. It was a crude description, but it fit nonetheless. Noelle nodded with a hunch in her shoulders. "That's about right."

Rey went into full shut-down mode. His eyes shifted from east to west, lips quivering with the absence of words. He walked away from the table, pinching his chin underneath his salt and pepper beard that was in need of a trim. Was it really possible, out here? A stroke of good fortune, if it worked out. The possibilities were endless, and the pros outweighed the cons considerably. But was it practical? It meant making some difficult decisions that the others wouldn't necessarily like.

Rey avoided putting the cart before the horse. It was best to take it slow, plan it out. "That's… that's good enough for now. Y'all did alright. I'll make sure the weapons get stowed. Get some food in you, get patched up, and all that. DEV and I need the room, please."

There was more to it; Jacen and Noelle were sure of that, but they left it alone. Rey wasn't one to keep secrets, at least secrets that put the group in danger. He'd tell them in his due time. They wouldn't push the issue. Whatever he and DEV would discuss would come to light sooner or later. Hopefully sooner, for their sake. They didn't risk their lives for nothing.

Without another word, the two of them turned and walked out, manually sliding the door shut that was once automated. The lock engaged almost instantaneously, probably under DEV's control. He seemed to be everywhere at once, constantly monitoring and working without anyone ever noticing half the time. But DEV's present and omnipresent circulation throughout the facility was _far_ from the minds of Jacen and Noelle. Rey's reaction remained adhered to them. He knew what the alien was, they didn't. Perks of being on the frontlines against the Covenant, they supposed. If you could call that a _perk_.

They moved in silence down the sparsely populated halls, shoulder to shoulder. A few passersby regarded them with looks of concern, bewilderment, and mild disgust. They'd wiped away as much of a blood from their faces and extremities, leaving behind unsettling smudges that were reminiscent of wet war paint. It wasn't like everyone else looked any better, but with there being so few fighters left, proper rotation was the first luxury to go.

Noelle's stomach growled between the thuds of their boots. "I hope Faraji cooked something worth eating today."

"We can eat later. You need to get your arm checked out." Jacen noticed Noelle was still favoring her right arm, holding it close to her like it was in a sling. "We need to be ready in case we head out again."

Noelle blew out air. "I'd rather eat. It's nothing. Just need to ice it up and keep it elevated."

Jacen only grunted. He didn't have the energy to argue. There was a certain hostility in her voice, in her tone. She was fuming about something. Whatever it as, it would have to wait until he had the patience to investigate.

They passed the narrow, dimly lit hall that would've led them to the clinic, progressing toward the cafeteria that was just up ahead. The smell of cooking food wasn't prevalent, but no aroma seemed to overpower the scent of the stale, recycled air that seemed to never dissipate into something more pleasant.

"I think we should be worried." Noelle found herself just making conversation. Jacen was aggravatingly tightlipped. She reasoned it was a subject that would break his silence. "Rey knows what that thing was. Makes me think we should've killed it."

Jacen grunted. "Maybe. It didn't attack us. Could've cared less that we were even there." He headed inside of the cafeteria. There was a line of ten with bowls in their hands, shifting and indulging and mundane conversation to pass the time until they were fed. The majority of the round, four-seated tables were occupied, while others simply stood against the walls of peeling beige paint and ate. "He told us to relax, so we'll relax. Better to come across that thing than something worse."

Noelle wasn't convinced. _Any_ Covvie was bad news, not matter how docile they appeared. She couldn't help but think they'd made a mistake by keeping that alien alive. So many bad decisions have been made due to human error, the worst of which costing lives. She tried to hear what Jacen was saying. No other Covenant she'd ever encountered acted that way. Elites, Jackals, Grunts—the species she'd seen—would kill you the _second_ you moved into their line of sight. Rey had better not be downplaying this.

* * *

DEV observed Captain Anderton switch back and forth between multiple viewing screens with a small yellow notepad in his hands. Another lit cigarette, to the A.I.'s dismay, hung from his lips as he jotted down brief notes from each screen. A peculiar sight, indeed. Mr. Pearce and Ms. Sanchez had barely made it out the door before the captain ordered him to pull up specific technical systems throughout the facility. What they all had in common was simple: they were either non-operational, failing, toward the end of their life span, and patch-work systems that required legitimate repairs or they would shut down.

DEV had an estimate on when exactly those systems would finish their operational course and die. It was a word in his infinite vocabulary that DEV, even though he knew the full definition of, couldn't quite grasp. Death. He figured he himself couldn't die in the relative sense a human could. His body held no organs, required no oxygen, and was not subject to the limitations of age. He'd been alive since the creation of the facility, and unless he willingly purged his own existence, DEV reasoned—

—"I don't see any other way around this, DEV."

DEV pivoted his body around to face Rey, refocused. "I can run another diagnostic."

Rey shook his head, blinking the smoke from his eyes. "You've ran multiple diagnostics over the past week. No changes. We've made all the repairs we could. We'll be moving into the life-support stage soon if we don't do something."

"I have my protocols, Captain," DEV replied. "My primary goal is the extension of life of _all_ occupants within this facility for as long as possible. I do not recommend this, Captain."

Rey pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. He lowered his hands down to his hips and transferred his eyes to the floor. "That's my goal as well. We can't ignore this. The Grunts unknowingly just threw us a bone, and I see plenty of meat still on it. This could be the break we were waiting for."

DEV had up to 250 reasons why Captain Anderton's potential risk was asinine. It would take no more than, barring no interruption, thirty minutes to explain those reasons and their subsequent consequences, but the A.I. already knew there would be no talking the captain out of it. "I understand, Captain. I won't object… totally."

"Alright, then." Rey clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms. "We'll do it."


	6. Chapter VI

**VI**

* * *

The cafeteria crowd had already begun to thin out by the time Jacen and Noelle came around. It was, if one was referring to Earth-time, just after lunch. Most the people had since gotten their meals, scarfed it down, and filed out. So much was the routine.

Noelle entered the shortening line with Jacen behind her. There wasn't a distinct aroma given off by the food today, just an odorless scent of steam with a hint of grain. Her pallet wasn't in the mood for the menu today, but it was either this or nothing. She had a few sweet-nothings stashed away in her bunk that she could've went back and snacked on, but they weren't fulfilling. Her gut needed some _real_ food. Food _Mamá_ used to prepare: _Ajiaco_ , _Lechona_ when the relatives came over, and _Changua_ for breakfast. And her favorite dish, that _Abuela_ used to make so well, was _Bandeja Paisa_ with _Tres leches_ cake for dessert.

It wasn't until Jacen nudged her shoulder that she realized she was holding up the line. She made up the gap in a few strides, catching a few sidelong looks from the others in the process. Everyone wanted to know, she guessed. What were the Grunts up to? Were they coming after them? Were they safe? Their looming, "are we going to be okay?" stares irritated her in a way she couldn't quite explain. In the grand scheme of things, no, they _weren't_ okay, but they had relative safety for now. She could hear the murmurings behind her as she shuffled forward—their fears, their apprehension of what to expect, their families, the vocal groaning and explosive sighing. Whatever. She put it out of her mind as she was next in line.

"Faraji," she greeted with as much false vigor as she could muster. "How's it?"

A slender middle-eastern man raised his dispassionate eyes, estimating the remaining food as a few more people filed in behind Jacen. He centered his focus on Noelle with limited interest. He reached for one of the plastic bowls on the drying rack. "Same 'ole junk." He held the bowl underneath the spigot of one of the two freestanding food containers and turned the knob. A white, creamy substance drained from the spigot and into the bowl, having the consistency to that of over-diluted oatmeal. He saw the distaste that came over Noelle's face as he dropped a plastic spoon in the bowl.

"Sorry. We're running low on the good stuff," he said. "Gotta dial everything back for a while."

Noelle accepted the bowl, denying the urge to snatch it and chuck it across the room. "What happened to the double-rations allotted to combatants? This'll barely feed us."

Faraji gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn't want to argue today. "That privilege is waived if the conditions worsen, which they have. We all have to make sacrifices. You don't like it? Take it up with Rey and the A.I. This was his call. Now, if you don't mind, I have more people to feed."

A boiling rage welled up inside Noelle. The temptation to retaliate surged through her. She looked over his shoulder at the ten or so people in line, their eyes seemingly echoing the same incentive if she didn't move alone. There was nothing more he could say. His allotment was given. Had to accept it.

Jacen watched her walk away without another word to find a vacant table. He adjusted the tan cap on his head that was heavily tattered, pulling the brim just above his eyes. A bowl of food, if you could call it that, was placed in his hands with a look of growing frustration in Faraji's eyes.

"You gonna give me hell, too?"

"We all have to make sacrifices, right?" he echoed and went on his way.

He went over to the table where Noelle was sitting and sat down beside her. She wasn't eating, despite the very vocal protest from her stomach. Loss of appetite, he knew. He didn't say anything at the moment, just shoved a spoonful of the goop in his mouth. There was no use chewing the stuff. It was simply an energizer, a combination of vitamins and minerals to keep the body going for hours. The taste hung somewhere between bland oatmeal and honey. It was available for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Never spoiled. There wasn't much variety beyond that, just rice, dried and salted meats, unfulfilling ready-made meals, and MREs. If you wanted quality meals, you imagined it.

Jacen didn't mind it too much. The crap did what it was supposed to do. It was better to be grateful for what you had then have nothing at all. He and Noelle knew that better than anyone, but he understood her frustration. Sometimes you just wanted _something_ to go your way. He had another spoonful, taking a quick sweep of the room with his eyes. The chatter was at a minimum, an exchange of words here or there. No laughter. It was the norm. The tail end of the lunch rush was always comprised of the workers, the combatants, and generally anyone who had a consistent job to perform to keep the place running.

They often looked at Jacen in the corners of their accusing, judgmental eyes. It was a common theme. There was an unwritten code between them—UNSC associated with UNSC and refugees remained with fellow refugees. It was a certain clique system that Jacen didn't particularly care for. They hadn't gone out of their way to get to know him, but as long as they did their jobs then it didn't matter to him. That's how it was, but Jacen wasn't going to be a mediator. He would take allies where he could get them.

Noelle finally started eating, taking in a half-spoonful at a time. She grunted, reached into her leather brown jacket to retrieve a sugar packet she'd taken from the coffee line. Tearing it open, she sprinkled it over the food and mixed in.

Jacen looked over, smirked. "You couldn't get me one? Scandalous, just scandalous."

"I didn't want to introduce sugar into your diet." She took a taste test. Good enough. "You being on your period and all."

Jacen sniggered, took a sip from his juice carton.

Noelle shook her head with a humorless laugh. "We put our lives on the line and they cut our rations. Outstanding."

"Mm." Jacen licked the remnants of his meal from his fingers. "You heard Faraji. We're running low. Couldn't expect the food to last forever, right?"

Noelle knew that; she just didn't expect them to be redlining this soon. They had enough foodstuffs to last 10 years plus, easy. Then again, who would've thought they would've been three years away from that? Couldn't fathom it. "Just wouldn't mind some variety."

"I hear you," nodded Jacen. "If it makes you feel any better, I have some saltines and peanut butter in my room. You're welcome to it."

She glared at him accusingly. "Don't patronize me, Jacen."

Jacen stood up, collecting his bowl and empty juice carton. "Don't say I never offered."

Noelle watched him leave in her peripheral, uttering an expletive out of earshot. She forced down the rest of her meal out of necessity and pushed the bowl to the side before pulling her obsidian hair back into a loose ponytail. Arms folded, she rested her head on the table with eyes shut. Her body finally unclenched from the tension brought on by the Grunts. She just wanted a shower and a few hours' sleep.

" _Buenos tardes, mamacita_."

So much for silence.

Noelle raised her head, looking into the blue, owl-like eyes of man of medium-build in hunter green coveralls. If her day hadn't gone to hell, it certainly did now. "Can I help you, Aaron?"

Aaron Polanski sat down at the table with a closed-mouth smile, resting his forearms before him. He examined Noelle with inquisitive eyes, jumping from the reddening blotches and cuts around her face and arms. "Heard you and Pearce stirred up a hornet's nest today?"

Word travelled fast. How he knew was beyond Noelle. Or maybe he didn't and just wanted to see what she'd day. At any rate, a quick look around the room revealed a few curious stares and open ears. Jeez, did Aaron know _anything_ about discretion? She leaned forward, out of earshot from the others and close enough to smell the fading coffee on Aaron's breath. "This isn't the time or the place for this kind of talk. Wouldn't want to start a panic, right?"

Aaron leaned back from her face, considering it. He saw the stares, the cattycornered way they sat to listen in on the words spoken from the fighters. They had the inside knowledge, something inaccessible from the casual outsider. They were tasked to keep everyone safe and alive for another day. Aaron ran his thumb across his brow. "Right. Well, my guys collected the weapons you raided. Good find. We don't have much ammo for the carbines, almost nothing for needlers, but we're good on plasma pistols." He let out a small chuckle. "Looks like they put up a helluva fight, though."

"Almost makes you think they don't like us," Noelle humorlessly quipped. She dumped her spoon in the bowl and prepared to leave. The energy needed to conversate with Aaron was well above what she had at the moment. She knew what he wanted to know every detail about the raid, of which he was entitled to; but he would have to wait.

Jacen came back to the table, nibbling on a toothpick wedged in the edge of his mouth. He caught Aaron's eye and ceased chewing on the spear of wood in his teeth. "Aaron."

"What's goin' on, Pearce?" replied Aaron. "I was just letting Noelle know we got the weapons. We plan on training some new guys soon. Let me know if you're game."

Noelle got up and walked away. "Nice chat, Aaron." She glanced up at Jacen. "Later."

"Yeah, later." Jacen returned his attention to Aaron and attempted to disguise his disinterest. "I'll sleep on it."

"Cool," Aaron nodded.

Jacen left it at that and began to make his exit, vying for some well needed privacy. He didn't make it through the doorway before he was stopped.

"Yo, Pearce! Grab a smoke?"

It was as close to _outside_ as one could get. A small, cube of a room that was nothing but wall-to-wall windows with smeared, water-blotched glass. It looked out across the two buildings of the camp, the sloth-like clouds casting an ever-present rust-orange haze across the lifeless easel of browns of various tints.

Aaron couldn't stand it. He sat reversed on a metal folding chair, arms resting on the backrest with a smoking cigarette between his fingers. A splash of green or blue would've done the moon wonders on the eyes, instead it was an eye-sore and internally wrenching to him. If God was the Master Painter, he certainly must've went through a melancholy period when He made Titan. No life sustainability, frigid temperatures, incessantly long days, and seasons that lasted over seven Earth-years. A dream if you were a mutant snowman.

He inhaled the nicotine, feeling the satisfying burn in his chest before blowing out the smoke. "Y'know, with the right elements, gases, dust particles, and no clouds not as thick as my aunt's Judy's waistline, we could be looking at an entirely different sky. Maybe one with color. Probably wouldn't be blue, but it'd be something."

Jacen looked over at him, fiddling with his lighter in his hands. In one sentence Aaron could always describe his entire makeup, and it was always random. Jacen liked random. Random meant unpredictable. Unpredictable people were dangerous, for Jacen himself prided himself on being unpredictable as consistency made you a target, a creature of habit. Habits could be studied and used against you. They never canceled each other out, unpredictable people; it only dissolved into rampant chaos with, of course, unpredictable outcomes. There was a certain thrill about it that he couldn't explain. Noelle never understood it.

"When did you become an expert in meteorology?"

Aaron shrugged. "Never have. I read it back in college." He inhaled again. "Tried to impress some girl. She was one of those environmentalists: recycled everything, low-emission lifestyle, vegan. Athletic-type. She drove this hatchback hybrid, took four or five bucks to fill it up."

"And this means what to me?" Jacen flatly responded.

Aaron shook his head in disapproval. "Jeez, you're not good at small talk."

Jacen flipped his lighter open, watching the flame flickered back and forth from his breath. "Maybe because I like the main course instead of the appetizer."

"You're 'bout as bad as that little Spanish firecracker of yours." Aaron cleared his throat and stubbed out the cigarette on one of the stacks of crates that lined the room's walls. "What jumped her apple cheeks anyway? She's fierier than usual."

Jacen gave him a _change the subject, you're not privileged to such information_ look.

Aaron held up his hands, palms out. "Fine, whatever. She didn't want to discuss the raid earlier, something about being in the public. I was hoping you'd be more… forthcoming. We're a team, remember?"

 _Team?_ That was a strong word coming from Aaron. If he meant they were a united front of sorts, then he was sorely mistaken. They were just two men among others who were sandwiched together in a crap situation with even crappier odds. Nothing more, nothing less. But they were in the same vein when it came to being Rey's own tiny army of makeshift soldiers, so he had a valid point… albeit a thin one.

"We found something in there," Jacen started, gaining Aaron's undivided attention. "Something that's been keeping them alive all this time. It's some type of… eel-looking thing that's manufactured conditions inside that compound that's perfect for those little cretins."

Aaron nodded along with the words. He could believe it. Aliens weren't fictional anymore, so he was up to believe anything. If there was an alien living among the Grunts that was capable of providing a functioning environment, he was sure Pearce was telling the truth. He continued to absorb what Jacen was telling him, about how the alien had no reaction to them and presented no threat to them at all. A non-lethal Covenant? Now _that_ was the stuff of dreams. If seeing was believing, then Aaron wanted an up-close and personal examination.

"What's the play? Rey has to have something up in the works."

"If he does, I don't know anything about it." Jacen stepped down from the crates he was sitting on and pocketed his lighter. "Mum's the word, okay?"

Aaron pretended to zip his mouth shut and gave a thumb's up. Jacen walked out, leaving a pack of cigs that was a fourth of the way gone. Aaron grabbed them from atop the crate, extracted one, and stuck one between his lips. He leaned forward in the chair, eyes searching aimlessly through the glass before settling on the floor. A grievous sigh followed as he buried his face in his hands. "We're screwed."


	7. Chapter VII

**VII**

* * *

Damon Vasher stood on his tiptoes, falling forward before breaking his fall with his arms. Hands in diamond formation, he rose up and down forty times, paused to catch his breath, and repeated. Sweat rolled down his almond-brown skin, pooling underneath as droplets dripped from the tip of his nose. He grimaced against the burning sensation that swarmed about his shoulders, biceps, and forearms. Switched to midsection: crunches, reverse crunches, frog and jackknife sit-ups, and flat bench leg pull ins on his bunk.

Break.

Damon shot up on his feet, snatching the gallon of water from the stop the footlocker at the edge of his bunk and sucked down four heavy gulps. He held the last helping his mouth, inflating his cheeks as water slid down the sides of his mouth before swallowing it down. His heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his bare chest, but took in slow breaths and eased it down into its natural rhythm. He though he should've continued, hit his regimen harder than before. Decided to call it for the day. He walked his throbbing body into the latrine, evacuated his bladder, and took a quick wipe off.

There wasn't a gym in any form in the camp; but that's what you get when you turn an old ONI research facility into a center for displaced civilians and UNSC personnel. A house for spooks and nerds, Damon believed. No environment fit for the longevity of soldiers and their needs. Even then, however, he couldn't ignore his regimen, his conditioning. It was drilled so deep that it felt like a sin if he missed an opportunity. Had to stay ready. Had to stay healthy. Had to stay _sane_.

Damon stepped out of the shower, toweling off as he glanced at the clock panel on the wall—264 hours. There was no use in having 24-hour clocks anymore. It made no sense on Titan. The moon rotated so slowly that one day on its surface was the equivalent to 15 days on Earth. Every clock began at 360 hours and counted down to keep track of the "days". There was no month-cycle, either. Wanted to figure out what time of the year it was? Good luck with that. He was sure some of the mathematical nerds around the camp could figure it out, but he could've cared less about something like that.

Time to work.

Outside he patrolled the fence line, keeping his pace just below a casual stroll to search for imperfections. The circumference of the fence stretched over a mile and a half. At his current pace, it would take him just shy of two hours to make it around. That was fine by him. He figured it was going to be an uneventful day; the more time he could kill the better. From what he could see, the fence was still intact. There were a few wires of metal that untwined from the formation, but it was nothing to raise a fuss over. The _real_ issues were potential gaps, obvious cuts, and sabotage. All what you'd expect from human interference. He missed the days when other humans were the only thing to worry about. If the Grunts wanted to launch an attack, he doubted a simple chain-link fence would keep them out. Still, it was something to do.

Damon made it to the halfway marker he'd placed during the previous walk, a simple spoke of wire with a red piece of fabric on its end. He continued on, now fully behind the camp's buildings where no one usually ventured unless they wanted complete privacy. It was also the best place for possible intrusion. The camp's camera's weren't operational; they couldn't spare the power for them. If Damon wanted to keep an eye on the "problem" areas around the camp, then he had to physically be present. Good thing, too—there was always something interesting to find.

He began following a pair of boot prints that weren't his own. They led further into the camp, but he decided to trace them back to the point of origin. It was probably nothing, just one of the other patrolmen breaking off to head back inside. Damon stopped. The prints, as he followed them back to the fence line, began showing more and more traces of blood.

 _Huh._

Maybe one of the patrolmen cut themselves and rushed back inside. Not likely. Taking in consideration of the distance between the steps, in both length and width, the person was walking—or staggering—toward the camp. So, where'd the bloody prints come from? Damon wasn't a cop; he was just an army corporal. At any rate, he went on to investigate until he came where the prints originated. His first reaction to what he saw was mild irritation than outright concern. A section of the fence had been cut with a slight bulge inwards. The soil had heavily disturbed, as if someone was struggling to get through.

 _Just who in the...?_

Damon's first objective was to find out who was patrol before him. It was complete negligence that this was allowed to happen. Thankfully the blood was human, but that didn't ease his nerves. Someone had gotten _inside_ their walls, their home; which was hella strange because Damon was under the impression that they were the only refugee center for hundreds of miles. No person, injured or not, could've made the trek from camp to another. It just wasn't possible without the proper gear or a vehicle.

 _"Corporal Vasher."_

The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Damon looked around to see if anyone was nearby out of sheer habit. He knew, aside from the lookouts, that no one would've been out here. The voice came through his short-range comms. It was DEV. "Go for Vasher."

 _"Captain Anderton would like to have a word."_

Damon shriveled his face. He didn't have time for one of Rey's useless errands today. There something definitely more pressing. "Can it wait? I'm doing checks right now and I've got something."

A pause. _"The Captain says it's urgent. You are needed."_

Damon rolled his eyes with a grunt. Fine, he'd go. He assumed he'd have to relay what he found to Rey eventually, but he would've liked more evidence _before_ then. If this intrusion was a big deal, the time was of the essence to get to the bottom of it. No need to put other people in danger. They were supposed to be safe, no matter how infinitely inaccurate that idea was. He sighed and replied, "I'm on my way."

Damon didn't try to waste time thinking what Rey might've wanted. Nothing of interest had happened lately. There was the recent raid that Pearce and Sanchez had carried out, but there was probably no new news concerning the Grunts. Maybe some new behavioral habits, more weapons collected, and other general intelligence. A suitable topic, although Damon was more concerned about the bloody prints he found outside.

He marched through the halls, still adjusting his UNSC-issued fatigues that he felt awkward wearing. It seemed irrelevant in their present circumstances. Everyone else he knew, UNSC or not, either stuck with the coveralls given to them or the clothing they had on their backs when they arrived. But something inside of him made him want to look the part. A sense of normality, he guessed.

Damon went inside the command area to find Rey swiping through documents on his data pad. DEV was floating just a few feet away from before turning to face Damon standing in the doorway.

"Corporal Vasher. Good for you to join us."

Rey looked up, saw Damon, and waved him over. "Damon. Thanks for coming."

Damon went inside and slid the door shut. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought Rey was living in here. A cot with a pair of thin mattresses stacked on top of each other was in the far corner, sheets tucked neatly in the corners with a dingy white pillow on the surface. The man had his own quarters. Damon didn't know why he _insisted_ on sleeping on that thing. He was dressed down today, too. No formal fatigues, no coveralls; just a black hoodie with tan tactical pants and boots with loose strings.

"Help yourself to some water or coffee," Rey trailed off, eyes fixated on his data pad. He looked up occasionally at the TACMAP that outlined the compound where the Grunts were held up. "I don't have any creamers, just sugar."

"I'm fine," Damon declined.

Rey moved on, formalities aside. "I'm sure you've heard Pearce and Sanchez made it back from the raid."

"Yeah, I know." Damon went over to the table set off the side from the TACMAP and sat down, looking through the map's visuals at Rey. "I don't know the details. They find anything of benefit?"

Damon asked out of pure necessity. He'd had his share in the raids, and each time proved less beneficial than the last. Most of the time, it was just recon for tactical and intelligence value. How were they living? Have their numbers increased? Was an attack imminent? Basic stuff you'd gather from any enemy, human or not. Taking their weapons and sabotaging their tech was just an incentive to let them know the humans weren't to be screwed with.

And it still bothered him that people like Jacen and Noelle went by themselves. They weren't soldiers; they were practically civvies with enough street knowledge and a measure of weapons training to get by. Beggars couldn't be choosers, though. They only had a handful of _actual_ soldiers, a few with previous armed forces experience, and one former Marine whose contribution was more mental than physical. The rest were just people who avoided being glassed and were thankful to have their lives. Giving them a gun _certainly_ didn't make them peers.

But it was the Rey moved over to where he was sitting that made Damon think there was more to this raid than the ones before. There was a certain _optimism_ in his weathered eyes that Damon hadn't witnessed in… Oh, God, how long had it been? Years maybe. He was curious, if nothing else.

"We found one, Damon," Rey said.

Damon raised his brows, took a quick look around the room. He reached back into his previous conversations, trying to retrieve a clue of what Rey might've been referring to. Came up empty. He leaned back in his seat with an _I don't know what you're talking about_ expression. "Found what?"

" _Facticius Indoles_." DEV zoomed over, leveling off between Rey and Damon. "The Huragok species of the Covenant, commonly referred to as Engineers. We are positive the Unggoy are in possession of one."

Damon's eyes transferred from DEV to Rey. It all came back to him, a chat some time ago about how the Grunts were surviving on their own. At best, it was an incredibly unrealistic hunch. But was it true? "And you know this how?"

"Pearce and Sanchez discovered it. Their description checks out."

Damon couldn't say anything, not right off. He knew something was amiss when the Grunts didn't readily die off within a few years. Raid after raid proved that they were thriving, but the details on _how_ eluded them. If indeed they had an Engineer, it would certainly prove how they'd lasted this long. "How is this relevant to us? They have an Engineer. Big ups for them, I guess."

"The relevance is that they're thriving; we're not. They have an ace in their corner, and I think we should go get it."

Damon couldn't recall the last time he was at a loss for words. There was the time his girlfriend severed the relationship via a one-word text and a middle-finger emoji; the time his alma mater lost the basketball championship to a no-name underdog; and the time it was announced that humans weren't alone in the universe. However, in the ever-changing whirlwind of his mind, what Rey allowed to come out of his mouth was something that paralyzed Damon's tongue.

"Come again?" Damon managed to reply.

"I had my suspicious," Rey started. "Those Grunts ended up here around the same time we were brought here, and through it all, they remained alive. I expected them to die off within a few weeks, but they didn't. Something was keeping them alive. The last raid confirmed what I was thinking. They have a methane-rich atmosphere inside the compound, created by one of _our_ oxygenators. They have running electricity synced with their tech. Heating, cooling, breathable air, possible food reserves—everything we're running out of. _This_ is our chance to secure our future."

Damon shook his head with his hands over his face. He sighed heavily has he brought his hands down. "What the hell, Rey? You're talking about capturing a member of the Covenant and _bringing it here_ to help us! With respect, sir, there is so much wrong with this idea that logic appears to have been left out. Have you even considered the numerous ramifications of this on both sides, human and alien?"

Rey gave no indication that Damon's words reached him. He simply frowned with raised brows and went over to the TACMAP with hands deep in pockets. Damon followed him across the room with his bewildered eyes, waiting urgently for his superior to have a moment of clarity and realize just how absurd—and dangerous—that idea was. But that clarity never came to Damon's dismay.

"I want you to take a look at this." Rey waved DEV over. "DEV, bring up analysis A3 of 2553."

"If you say so." DEV exchanged the view of the Grunt compound on the tactical map to a list of various operational systems that kept the camp running.

Damon rolled his eyes; he knew where this was going.

"You see this, Damon?" Rey gestured to the screen. "This was our operational status three years ago. Decent, right? We had enough food, energy from the generators were running at 89%, conditioners kept this place at a toasty 75 to 78 degrees consistently, all of our oxygenators were pumping out plentiful air, and our comms system was fuzzy but working nonetheless." He took his eyes away from the map and glued them to Damon, unblinking. "DEV, now bring up analysis A5 of 2556."

The screen changed to something that made Damon's stomach dip. He stood up, walked slowly over to get a closer look. Every system was virtually on life support. It was shocking everything was still running at its current capacity. Food hovered around average when rationed, but by the stock numbers, it was well below what they could provide in the future. The eight generators they had were knocked down to three, functioning at a meager 25%. Air conditioning left the camp at a chilly 68/65 degrees with no increase. When it came to breathable air, the _two_ oxygenators they had was struggling to provide for the entire camp. And there was obviously no working comms, otherwise they wouldn't be there.

"This can't be right," Damon said at last.

"Oh, it's right," Rey laughed. "I know these numbers, memorized 'em. It's our reality, and it's only going to get worse. DEV has done what he could with repairs and maintenance, but he has done all that he can. It's up to us now."

Damon shuffled his feet, wincing as if he was straining. If this was what Rey was studying every day, then it was no wonder why he appeared older than he really was. The stress of it all would've broken a lesser man, but the captain remained even and moderately placid through it all. Even at that, it still didn't mean everything he suggested was right.

"Do you mind?" Damon gestured his shoulder to the file cabinet stationed just beyond the cot.

"Sure," Rey nodded. "There isn't much left."

Damon walked over to the metal cabinet and opened the bottom drawer, pulling back the row of empty folders to retrieve a bottle of aged scotch. He shut the drawer, taking one of the foam cups next to the cold coffee maker and poured a modest amount. It had been years since he'd drank a drop of alcohol. His tolerance was probably lower than it was in his college years, but he was sure his body—and liver—would adjust. He took in a slow, miniscule sip, feeling the burn swirl across his tongue and kick in his throat. Scotch was never his first choice, but today, it only seemed appropriate for something strong.

"If there truly is an Engineer there, it's the Grunt's only means of survival. We take that away, if we're not killed in the process, they'll become desperate. And _both_ of us know, desperation will make anyone or anything liable to think they have nothing to lose. This would spark a full-on, nothing-held-back retaliation. I mean, they'll bring their entire forces here, armed or not." Damon finished off what was left in the cup, looked at Rey. "Are _we_ that desperate to evoke that?"

Rey wanted to scream out an emphatic yes, but he knew that would do nothing to appeal to Damon's logical nature. The man was, like himself, a soldier in the UNSC armed forces. No action was carried out until everything was laid out, planned carefully, and thoroughly reviewed before executing it. But sometimes, and it was rare, you could evoke action by simple facts and circumstances, totally bypassing logic. Was it logical for Moses to cross the Red Sea with three million Israelites and the Egyptians hot on their hills? Hell no. But the circumstances permitted drastic measures, and it worked out. So would this.

"Damon, we can't wait around for the UNSC to save us. Hell, we don't even know if there's still a government left to save us." Rey pointed to the TACMAP. "When each of those categories reach emergency-level status, this _entire_ facility will begin its shutdown procedures. DEV and I have held that off as long as possible, but we can't prevent it from happening.

"Phase one of this shutdown will start by eliminating all nonessentials, whether it's occupied or not. Power will be reduced below what we require, heating and cooling will be eliminated, and water reserves will taper off. Our food will thaw and spoil, water will have to be rationed, lighting will be too dim to function during the night. That's just phase one. Phase two hits engineering. That cuts more power, oxygen levels will increase to burn off the rest left in the oxygenators before they're depleted, and any consoles still running will initiate the Cole Protocol. The final phase completely removes _all_ electrical power, wired and wireless. In this event, DEV is to recheck all system to make sure they're all shut down. Then he, too, will power down into a dormant mode until the facility is revitalized in the future.

"These are the facts, Damon. This process takes weeks, ensuring all human activity is ceased. But we'll starved before we freeze to death; and if we happen to hold out beyond food and the temperature, we'll soon suffocate from no oxygen. _All_ of this will happen if—"

Damon held up his hand; he'd heard enough. "Okay, okay… I get it. We're dead without a solution, but this is…" Damon held back. Rey was committed, and there was nothing that was going to change his mind. Old war dogs were like that. But he was right about one thing: there was no guarantee the UNSC was coming back for them. Like the Grunts, they had nothing else to lose but their lives. They sure didn't have anything else.

"DEV." Damon's voice was infused with regret. "How long until this shutdown happens?"

"Relative to Earth-time—two years, four months, eighteen hours."

Damon voiced a hushed expletive. There was no avoiding it now. Circumstances would have to force their hand. If it took a suicide mission to preserve their lives, then that's what it was going to take. Damon wished it wouldn't come to this, but what other options did they have?

"What's the plan?"


	8. Chapter VIII

**VIII**

* * *

Rey knew that if this plan was going to work, he'd need the right people. A plan as such was only as good as the people involved, so he needed to recruit. A handful of names already circulated through his head after his discussion with Damon. The corporal was on board, albeit reluctantly. Who wouldn't be, right? He knew, though, that it was going to be a hard sell to anyone else. Damon was a UNSC soldier, trained and involved in numerous conflicts with the Covenant. Soldiers saw what civilians often overlooked: the threat, the tactical side of matters, and the eventual solutions. Everyone else just saw the threat and how it may've affected them. Black and white.

Once he had the people, Rey knew that was only the first step. The success of this operation required strategic perfection. He didn't care for the word. Nothing was ever perfect, and no plan was ever fool-proof. Still, if 100% perfection wasn't possible, then he'd settle for 99.99%. Just one percent shy wasn't too shabby. Then again, if left up to chance, that one percent could be the one negative that had the power to ruin everything, to lose everything.

The thought of failure was prevalent in his mind. Some might think he was being a pessimist, some deranged, and others uncommitted on what to label him as. But he had their trust, at least from those who mattered. The rest were too indecisive; calling his praise one moment and doubting him the next. People. You can't satisfy all of them, even if they didn't realize you're the reason they're still drawing breath.

That was one reason why he found himself in the living quarters of the camp. The people needed to see his face, to know that he was in the trenches with them. Politicians used the tactic often: shake hands, ask about your welfare, make promises, keep morale high. Anything just to make everyone feel secure, as if to say, 'I'm the same as you are'. Many didn't believe it, but it was the truth. He didn't have some fancy room in the command center of the camp; he didn't have more food to eat and cleaner water to drink; he didn't have a lush bed with a firm mattress and a thick comforter to keep him warm. Everything they had, he had.

 _So don't turn your nose up at me. I eat the same crap you eat, sometimes less._

Rey couldn't fully blame them, though. Their living conditions weren't comfortable, especially for the families. Rooms were sectioned off into blocks no larger than your standard warehouse storage units. Used originally store the base's long removed Mongoose riders, it was the only place to keep everyone. It was also one of the coldest areas in the building, forcing DEV to divert most of the heating there. There were some rooms that was as cold as the moon's surface, uninhabited and left forever desolate. If this plan didn't work, more and more sectors would have to be cleared out and shut down to conserve power. Sooner or later, even that wouldn't be enough.

It infuriated him that he spent so much time thinking about the worst and rarely concentrated on the silver lining that kept them afloat. "Take a day off," some have told him. If only that were possible. But he wasn't here to make friends with the rest of the camp, not today. No, there was someone he needed to see.

He went down the line of living blocks, nodding to every few that were open, while others were sealed off by a thin curtain. There were a few families, having one or two children between them. More mouths to feed, more people to keep alive. Kids ran back and forth, playing with homemade toys in their endless imaginations: screaming, laughing, taunting, heavy breathing. He supposed the UNSC didn't think to pack contraceptives along with the rest of the supplies. But whatever. You couldn't stop people from doing what they wanted, even if it placed a burden on the rest. Typical. But there was good people here, hardworking and valuable. Natural peacekeepers and social leaders to maintain general order. Rey would never be able to thank them enough. He had too much on his plate to make room for riots.

Rey was midways down when he found who he was looking for. A woman was standing amongst a few of the seasoned members of the camp, handing out bowls of food and medications from the tray in her arms. She crouched down beside one of them in a wheelchair, brushing her wiry blonde hair behind her ears before pulling a thin plastic container from her back pocket. Rey made his way over, standing just off to the side of her. His shadow fell across her diagonally, and her unsettling icy blue eyes edged into the corners.

She looked over her shoulder at him, still crouched. "Reymond? Funny to see you around this time." She unlatched the plastic container, lined with a variety of multicolored pills and tablets.

"D'you have a minute, Astrid?" he asked her.

Astrid Schäfer pinched a pair of pills between her fingers, noting the mild impatience in his voice. She figured she couldn't avoid him forever. "Sure. Just let me finish up. I'll meet you by the containers."

"All right." Rey regarded the elderly, turned, and left out.

Rey paced for the better part of ten minutes, teething his right thumbnail but refusing to bite. He had only had five cigarettes left on him, with one full pack back in his bunk. That was twenty-five total, the last of his personal stash. He could get more, but it wasn't worth the hassle with Faraji; the man's price, for what he wanted, was just too high. And where was Astrid? Did it really take that long to give the ole' folks their meds? Maybe she was making him wait, to really make him think. He wasn't changing his mind.

Astrid came around the distant corner, walking in an unhurried gait. She still wore what everyone else might've considered peculiar in their circumstances: grey slacks with matching blazer, black undershirt, and modest heels. Rey felt underdressed.

She closed the distance between herself and Rey, their frames dwarfed by the empty cargo containers stacked behind them. It was a relatively quiet area, save for the occasional squawks from the children in the blocks. She dug her hands into the pockets of her blazer, looking straight on in Rey's eyes with an awaiting expression.

Rey gestured to the opposite side of one of the containers. "Let's get out of earshot."

Astrid sighed out of annoyance, ultimately going along. She followed him around to the backend of the container, feeling foolish for actually checking to see if anyone saw them. Of course they didn't. No one paid that much attention to anything, but eyes and ears usually perked up when Captain Anderton came marching.

"People won't develop conspiracies if they see us talking," Astrid underscored.

Rey shifted his feet. "How is everything over here, the overall morale?"

Astrid's brows furrowed. So he was going the small talk route? If that was his way of chiseling away at the frozen ice of the discussion, then she'd play along. But Astrid took her time to answer. There wasn't a simple answer, at least one Rey would realistically believe. Everyone's attitude was basically the same in one form or another.

The stages of grief had long since subsided, concluding in reluctant acceptance. A few often regressed into depression and anger, but it never lasted long enough to cause any issues. There was 76 of them in all, 77 once the latest pregnancy finished its course. Seventy-six out of 115 initial lives. Thirty-nine dead, and she doubted that number would remain unchanged.

"I don't know what you expect to hear. They're managing the best they can. Most of arguments that happen are more out of frustration than anything else." She pressed her right hand against the container, tapping. "It's been a while since they've heard any good news. They could use some. Anything at this point would raise their spirits."

"I know," Rey concurred. "That's why I'm trying to do something about it. Have you reviewed the data I sent you?"

There it was. Astrid winced, arms folded. "I have."

"And?"

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Reymond. What, that this is a great idea, that there's no other option? You're probably right; this could very well be our last chance. I looked over the details. We're practically on life-support. DEV estimates two years before systematic shutdown begins."

"All the more reason we need that engineer here to help us."

"And what makes you think this Covenant alien would dare help us? I was an operations coordinator for twelve years, so I'm no stranger out-of-the-box ideas. However, I've never recalled being a part of an op that involved capturing a member of the Covenant race to help us in a positive light. Capture for study, sure; capture and interrogate, most certainly; capture to form an alliance, never even discussed. We're in a war here, Reymond. This mission you're planning—"

"Planned," Rey impeded. "This is happening."

Astrid shook her head with a laugh. "Then why come talk to me? Want my blessing on this mess?"

Rey exhaled, fingers itching to grab a smoke. He fought the urge, landing his restless hands in his pockets. The conversation had gone exactly the way he thought it would; the same as it did with Damon. Only Astrid wasn't Damon. Both disagreed, but solid reasoning was enough to get Damon on board. Astrid was an entirely different creature. Nothing would convince her, not under their present circumstances. Maybe if they had squads of marines or helljumpers, her mindset would move in sync with his own.

"I didn't come here expecting you to agree with me," Rey explained to her. "Hell, Vasher ain't even open to this; but in order for this to work, I'm gonna need my best people on it. I'd rather not do this without you. And just think—this could give us five to six more years to figure out how to get us out of this mess."

Astrid walked a little way away from Rey, incredulous. She forced a stream of air through her nose. "I'm no pessimist, Reymond, but it's not like the UNSC left a ship here for us to take. They dropped us off, flew away, and said they'd be back." She pulled back the sleeve on her blazer, glancing at a figurative watch on her wrist. "It's been four years. Let's say we capture this engineer and it extends this place's lifespan; what then? You had to have thought about it."

Rey _had_ thought about it; he couldn't help but to. Only the foolishly inexperienced went ahead without giving due thought to the end game. He knew that the elephant in the room was the that the engineer was ultimately a wildcard. If it didn't cooperate or attempted to sabotage them, it would have all been for nothing. An immense risk, yes; but how could you measure the risk of not trying, to let life slip through your fingers because you were too worried to even attempt an effort? It was survival, nothing more.

"I have a plan here, Astrid. It's just the first step of many. Your first steps are always crucial."

"You can also fall in your first steps, crucial or not," Astrid replied.

"I want you to coordinate the mission."

Astrid extended her neck out, blue eyes expanding. She found herself practically gawking now, having to rein herself back in. "First, you tell me about this suicide mission and _now_ you want me to lead it?" She laughed with her hand over her forehead. "I can't be responsible for this, especially if you end up dead."

"My choice. Now, are you in or not?" Rey had nothing else to add and waited.

* * *

Jacen stood outside of Noelle's room, tucked away in the cleared out vehicle maintenance bay near the living blocks. It was getting late, and many were beginning to retire to get some sleep. Lights began to switch off one by one outside their individual rooms as the chatter started to die down. There was still 32 hours left before the moon's night cycle began.

He knocked on the office door twice of the small room sitting in the back of the maintenance bay, half-hoping she wouldn't answer. Maybe she was asleep, out cold from everything. That would've been best; he wasn't up for what was on his mind. To his dismay, however, mild footfalls emanated from inside until the door opened in front of him.

Noelle stood on the opposite side, dabbing her wet onyx hair with a towel. She gave him a once-over from head to toe. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for a Columbian hobbit." Jacen looked over Noelle's 5'7" frame. "Fairly new species. Have you seen one?"

Noelle appeared to think deeply on the question, staring up at the ceiling with searching eyes. "I'd check Africa. Always something new there."

"Comical." Jacen went inside past her, hit with the smell of fresh steam and a soapy fragrance.

Noelle pursed her lips and shut the door. "Please, invite yourself in."

She eased him out of her path and disappeared into the small washroom in the back.

Jacen went about the perimeter of her room, toying with the little knickknacks she'd collected over the years: bits of metal she crafted into shapes, .50 caliber bullets with designs carved into the copper shells, chunks of rocks from the moon's surface. A museum of sorts. He didn't expect her make this place so… comfortable. For some, they kept their gear packed for four years, just waiting for the day the UNSC descended out of the sky to take them home. Jacen didn't live by their optimism.

"I talked to Aaron earlier." Jacen sat on the edge of her unmade bunk.

Noelle poked her head out from the washroom with a grimace. "Ugh, what possessed you to do that?"

"Wasn't my idea. It's been quiet seen we got back from the raid. Aaron thinks the captain is working something out regarding that thing we found."

Noelle came out in a black tank and briefs, massaging lotion over arms stitched with healing red scraps. She gave Jacen a look and sat down beside him. "If we want us to go back and kill it, then he can ask Aaron to do it. I'm not interested in going back." She grabbed a brush from atop the metal footlocker and began running it through her hair. "Makes me think we should've killed it when we saw it."

"Maybe," Jacen shrugged. "I'm starting to think the captain didn't mind that we _didn't_ kill it on sight."

"We'll never know. He isn't the sharing type." Noelle got up, flipped open the footlocker, and pulled out a pair old jeans with dozens of micro rips in the thigh, knee, and shin portions. She sighed heavily. "Look, we need to talk."

"We are talking," he replied.

Noelle rolled his eyes. "Jacen."

He looked back at her and pinched the tip of her nose. "Oh, it's your serious face."

Noelle swatted his hand, holding it by his wrist. "Are you done?"

Jacen withdrew his hand from her grip, face dropping. "All right. What do you want to talk about?"

"Us."

Jacen's forehead wrinkled. "Us?"

"Yeah, _us._ " Noelle crouched in front of him, head low to stare up into his down casted eyes. "I need to know that we're not getting weak."

Jacen found her words, for the moment, peculiar. Weak? As far as he could tell, they'd maintained sufficient strength to keep going. They weren't like the others who were frequent complainers that hung on a fraying thread. It would only take a slight nudge to put them over the edge, to make them desperate. For the most part, he and Noelle had kept a level head, so what exactly was she trying to get at?

"I don't believe we are," he answered. "But I'm guessing you feel differently."

Noelle maintained eye contact, unblinking. "I do. I'm afraid we're getting comfortable, settling in. Let's be honest here; they don't trust us, and I certainly don't trust any of them. They're not our friends." She looked away, index finger between her teeth. "Maybe we should've left with them."

Jacen wagged his head in disbelief. "No. That was their choice. They chose to leave, and they're probably dead because of it. No _probably_ ; they _are_ dead. We're still alive."

"Yeah, barely." Noelle stood, walking over to the windows that looked upon the southern tip of the living blocks. "I got a bad feeling, Jacen. Can't put my finger on it, but it won't go away."

Jacen worked his jaw, juggling the awkward puzzle pieces of the conversation. Some of the pieces just didn't seem to fit, but a few were beginning to land perfectly. "Is this what the raid was about?"

Noelle turned, confused. " _Que?"_

"The reason you were reckless, trigger-happy. Our plan was stealth, but I got the feeling you were looking for a fight. Was that your way of proving you aren't weak? If so, that's a dangerous test."

"That's _mierda!_ I wouldn't risk our lives to prove a point."

"I didn't say it was intentional, but I've fought with you long enough to know that that wasn't you. We're not weak, not like everyone else. But we do have to keep our heads down. When the time is right, we'll make a move. Until then, we're just—"

Jacen stood up.

"What?" Noelle mimicked his motions and turned to face the door.

Jacen walked towards the door, cautious. "Someone's here." He removed the sidearm from his thigh holster, easing it behind his left thigh. Noelle did the same behind him, tucking her gun in the small of her back. Jacen opened the door.

"Oh, hello!" DEV greeted.

Jacen exhaled, the tension in his body ebbing away. He slid the gun back into the holster and placed his hand on the doorpost. "Yes, DEV."

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The A.I. flew underneath Jacen's arm and into the room, hovering between the two of them.

"Depends," Noelle said. Her hands remained behind her back. "What do you want?"

DEV noted the mild hostility in her voice, filed it away for later. "Both of you have been asked to join Captain Anderton within two hours in the central building. It's urgent that you come. Can I count on your attendance?"

Jacen and Noelle said nothing for a beat. They exchanged a look between one another. Had the cube heard their conversation? If he had, was there really anything of substance he could find troubling? It was unlikely, but they would give the A.I. the benefit of the doubt and play along.

"We'll be there," Noelle agreed.

"Excellent!" DEV buzzed out the room, displaying a thumbs-up emoji on his screen. "Remember: 'If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late.'"

Jacen forced a smile and shut the door.


	9. Chapter IX

**IX**

* * *

 _"An indecisive man ain't a balanced man, boy. You either make a decision or you don't; ain't no straddling the fence."_

Rey estimated it may've been forty years since his father told him that. He was surprised he even remembered it. Come to think of it, the older he got, the more he had seemed to morph into his old man. Life was a doggone circle. There was no going back now, telling everyone to head back to square one for a _safer_ option. That didn't exist now. This would either work or not. At the end of the day, it was Rey's decision and the aftermath fell on his shoulders.

"Thank y'all for comin'."

Rey stood in the center of the situation room, a mid-sized office set off to the side from the command center. It was cold and impersonal; no windows, barely enough light, desks and tables shoved against the walls with dingy sheets draped over them. A perfect little nook away from prying eyes and listening ears.

DEV circled the perimeter, his micro cameras scanning the various faces of the people that were within the closed doors. "Everyone is accounted for, Captain Anderton."

"What are we doing in your lair, Rey?" Aaron sat atop one of the desks in the corner. "I was busy doing nothing… kinda enjoyed that."

Rey scanned the room, found Astrid and Damon standing behind him with less-than-thrilled expressions on their faces. He imagined they were thinking this would go nowhere but south, and in a hurry. The people in the room came from various backgrounds, worlds, and circumstances. All meshed together in a melting pot of uncertainty.

"I called you here because, more or less, you're the best people I have… and I have a job for us. DEV, show 'em, please."

A quartet of miniscule shutters blossomed open on DEV's body. Streams of sapphire light beamed out into a projection, forming an exterior view of the entire complex. It rotated slowly, with certain regions highlighted in colors ranging from yellow to orange to red.

Rey pointed up to the projection. "This is our home. Not very glamorous, no curb appeal, but it is keeping us sheltered and alive. That won't last forever, and it hasn't. These colored areas here, here, and here measures the functionality of the engineering systems that controls everything. As you can see, these systems are failing. Heating, water reserves, power, oxygen-all of that is redlining "

There was a certain mood shift Rey could feel; the way their eyes bounced around the room, the way they motioned uncomfortably, and the numerous characteristics that favored the nervous. It was the same mannerisms his mother used to display when she received troubling news. She never quite knew what to do with her hands when she was upset.

"You're saying we're all dead soon?" Noelle was by the door with Jacen next to her, arms tightly folded and hands clinched.

"Sure sounds that way." That was Aiden Northe, settled to the right of Aaron. His hard brown eyes cut away from Noelle and landed on Rey. The Brit scratched the greying stubble on his face before clasping his dark brown hands together. "If they're in the red, that means we don't have much time. How long, Rey?"

"A little over two years," Rey answered.

A rise of commotion occurred between them: murmuring, flashes of mild shock, pacing, and mounting fear. Jacen tugged at the brim of his cap with a wince. Two years. He knew they wouldn't be sustained forever, but maybe a part of him just got lazy and figured nothing of merit would change. His mind swung like a pendulum, swaying against the hemispheres of concern and acceptance. There was no middle ground; it was either black or white without a tint of grey. He knew the times would degrade, and it wasn't a case of matters worsening before they improved. He glanced down at Noelle, her light brown eyes already trained on him.

Rey raised his arms, trying to reel them back in. He had to get out in front of their emotions, calm them down. If not, they'd get to the point where they would no longer listen, giving in and drowning in their own fears. "Hey, listen!"

The group settled down almost instantaneously at the volcanic nature of Rey's voice.

"I wouldn't have called you in here if we couldn't rectify this."

Kipp Brody came to the fore, lean and devoid of body fat. His pointed nose gave him a rodent appearance, along with his large eyes that seemed to take up most of his face. "Rectify this how? DEV and I have been running maintenance those machines for years and neither of you told me it was this bad. I may not have DEV's extensive knowledge, but I am a competent engineer. Why didn't you let me in on this one, Rey? I could've done something to prevent this."

Rey shook his head, holding his hand palm out to Kipp. "There's nothing you could've done. You and DEV have done excellent work, but you of all people know that machines can only be repaired so many times before they stop functioning. And no, I shouldn't have kept you in the dark, but I needed time to figure something out."

"And did you?" Aaron asked next. "I mean, I'm assuming that's the _job_ you recruited us for, right?"

"That's right," acknowledged Rey. "And it might just work."

"Crap. Here we go," Damon whispered just inside of Astrid's earshot.

Astrid braced, fingertips massaging the center of her forehead.

"This is what we're after." Rey nodded to DEV, and the A.I. switched out the projection of the camp to a full 360 view of the Huragok.

Heads snapped up. Anyone's attention that may've been waning was sharply reversed. Some of them got on their feet, stepping closer for an inspection of the creature. For Jacen and Noelle, it was an all-too-familiar flashback. Any suspicious that they once had were confirmed in that instant. That alien wasn't random; it had a purpose there, and Rey knew it. There was subtle amount of relief that settled in Jacen's gut. Maybe leaving it alive was the right call… or did it just open the door to something worse?

"Rey, what the hell is that?" Aiden pointed.

Rey swallowed. _Ain't no straddling the fence._ "This is a Huragok of the Covenant. We call 'em engineers. I came across a few of 'em when I was in specials ops. They're some sort of bio-computers, I don't know. ONI never gave us the nitty gritty. The point, however, is what they do. These aliens can repair or improve almost any piece of tech they encounter. It doesn't matter what it is; they can fix it. I remember some years back, one of these things was introduced to a dismantled Warthog engine. Without prior knowledge, this alien constructed the engine to perfection, dismantled it, and rebuilt it with improvements…"

Noelle pinched Jacen. He looked at her telling eyes, already knew.

"This alien is the reason the Grunts are still alive, using our abandoned tech infused with their own. I believe our best course of action, in light of the failing integrity of our home, is that we capture this engineer from the Grunts and utilize its talents here."

Kipp immediately stood up with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He climbed atop one of the desks, holding his right arm above his hand to feel the air come down from the ventilation ducts. "Is there a hallucinogen being pumped in here? No, doesn't seem like it." He jumped down from the desk. "I must be something, 'cause I don't think I heard that properly."

"I have to agree with Kipp on this one, Captain," Noelle piggybacked. "Going full assault on the Grunt stronghold for this Japanese porn-looking alien… it's _loca_. We'd need more people, soldiers even."

"No, we'd need a priest," Aiden scoffed. "You're talking about storming that place with a pissload of enemies and expect to make it out alive. I admit, if this engineer can do what you say it can, then it may be worth the risk; but it won't matter if we're all dead."

"We also have to take into consideration the rest of the camp," Aaron noticed. "Everyone here, in one way or another, has been a victim of the Covenant. It won't sit well with people knowing there's a member of Covenant _inside_ our walls. Might breed conflict. People can be dangerous when they're scared."

Aaron's seemed to strike a collective chord in them all. At the base of it all, the Covenant either destroyed their worlds or displaced them to the point where they were now. You never saw the insurrectionists having a blissful relationship with the UNSC, not after all the bad blood between them. It was the same now. A Covenant ally? It just didn't seem logical. Then again, why not keep your enemy close and learn from them? There was benefit in that.

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," Rey pitched, " but we gain the advantage. For one, and most importantly, we ensure our survival. We'll potentially give ourselves more time, something we're rapidly running out of."

"More time for what?" Kipp hissed.

Rey looked at him. "A way out. Look, I'm open to suggestions; but this is the only way I see us maintaining. We can either go ahead with this or head back to square one. I want all of you to be honest with me: by a show of hands, who believes the UNSC will come for us within the next two years… or ever?"

No one raised their hand.

"Then we agree on something," Rey validated.

"We get that, Rey; it's just too many unknowns we're up against here." Aiden ran his hands down his face. "It's a nightmare, really. We have to get in there, find the thing, and extract it. All the while fighting off these bloaks. Not an easy task, mate."

"Not easy, but it can be done," Damon stepped up. The corporal would've rather remained silent on the issue, wait until the others made enough fuss until Rey backed down and called this whole thing off. He wouldn't, though. At the end of the day, Rey was Captain Anderton of the UNSC Armed Forces, Damon's superior. He was a fellow soldier, and soldiers didn't abandon their leader and leave them for the wolves.

"None of you are soldiers, not really," Damon continued. "But you're all fighters, good ones. You wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't. If we pull this off, we can concentrate on getting off this moon and back to whatever we call home. Who knows what this engineer could do for us, pending its attitude on being captured. Trying is better than doing nothing. We can't accomplish this without any of you."

Everyone went silent, but the absence of their voices couldn't mask the obvious disapproval on their faces. They still weren't buying it, and maybe they never would. Damon didn't agree with every deployment the UNSC assigned him. When he thought he should've been fighting on the frontlines, he was helping civilians on freighters off neighboring worlds. Instead of falling back in firefights, he was urged to push forward and take the enemy. He was still alive, still fighting. So sometimes, what _you_ think is right wasn't necessarily the right thing to do, but it was the opposite. It was a hard sell, especially in this case.

Damon switched his focus to Jacen. "Pearce…"

Jacen raised his head and eyed Damon.

"You've haven't said anything yet. What's your take?"

All eyes naturally gravitated to the man. What did he need to say, really? Valid points were already made. There was nothing more he could add without further widening the gap of opinions. In two years' time, this place would degrade with them still inside. With that future in mind, anyone would become desperate to find a solution. Was the captain desperate, grasping for anything he could reach for? Possibly. Then again, maybe not. Jacen was hard pressed to believe Rey made a snap decision without forethought, but had he considered everything?

"It's a smart plan," Jacen started off. "Logical, almost. Use what's working for the Grunts and take it for ourselves. We win. But what about contingencies? We have them in place, so we should only assume the Grunts do as well. Just a stab in the dark here, but what if they have a failsafe? We're a threat to them, a big one. If I were them, I'd have plans in place.

"Think about prisoners of war. When UNSC soldiers were captured by the insurgents or the Covenant, they were told not to cooperate or do everything in their power to somehow sabotage the enemy. Say we capture the engineer, bring it back here. How do we know it doesn't have orders from the Grunts? We think it's fixing our systems, but it could be shutting them down. Our two year window turns into one year, or a few months, or it cuts everything at once and we're dead on the spot. That's what I would do if I were captured. Sabotage. I don't know; it's just a thought."

The look on Rey's face was one that Jacen couldn't read right off. It was a toss up between _I may've missed that_ or _you just torpedoed my entire plan what crap you just said_. If the latter, then the fear of no one participating was a real possibility. It wasn't Jacen's intention; he just spoke his mind and left it at that. The looks on everyone else's faces told Jacen that just making it out alive was only the short game. It appeared the aftermath would be just as challenging and just as enigmatic.

Kipp waved his hand at chest height, wearing an expression of confusion. "Is that even realistic? Grunts don't think that far ahead, right?"

"They sure knew how to use that engineer," Aaron commented. "They can obviously communicate with it, so we they landed on this moon, they knew they wouldn't be able to survive very long. Think about it: they found one of our old complexes, informed the engineer of what they needed, and eureka-they're flourishing." Aaron paced his hand on the end of his chin. "You may be onto something, Pearce. Before you and Sanchez conducted that raid, we had no way of knowing there was an engineer there. Which means… now the Grunts know that we know that they have something we may want. That may encourage them to bolster their defenses, add more protection around their prized procession."

"That's gonna make getting it a real cluster shag, eh?" Aiden sighed. "We'll need a bloody good strategy to make this work."

Astrid broke her silence. "I have a few scenarios in place. They're not 100% complete. It requires your input, your individual expertise. If we formulate a tactically sound operation, our success won't be left up to random chance."

"Which brings me to my next point," Rey added. "Ms. Schäfer would be running point on this one. She and DEV would stay behind, acting as overwatch. Eyes and ears. The rest of us would be on the ground."

"That would mean you would be on the ground with us?" Noelle caught on.

"Correct," Rey confirmed.

"Wait a second, Captain, that is a horrible idea," Aaron differed. "If we go through with this, we can't risk you-"

"Risk me of what, dying?" Rey interceded. "No. There is too much riding on this for me to be sitting and hoping everything goes well. If anything goes wrong, I need to be there. Any one of you could've been killed during these raids; hell, some _have_ been killed. We're all that's left to keep this place safe and running. It's our responsibility whether we accept it or not. You best believe the Grunts aren't gonna take this lying down. They'll fight us down to the very last man or alien standing. And I'm confident that we'll all be standing when this is done. So let's put it to a vote. All in favor will raise their hands; all who oppose… well, there's the door. But if you oppose, remember what you're walking out on. You're walking out on our future, the people of this camp, and the people in this room. What do you say?"

Rey raised his hand, accompanied by Damon and Astrid behind him. Aaron looked around the room, half expecting someone to walk out without looking back. He certainly felt like it. Rey's guilt trip wasn't helping, either. He doubted his conscience would be largely troubled if he declined to participate, but it wasn't about his conscience as much as it was about his overall obligation to the group. What if one of their deaths could be prevented if he was there, and how would it look if he-a vetted fighter-stayed behind?

Aaron shook his head with his eyes shut. "I'm in."

Jacen and Noelle each held up one finger. What the hell, right? The facts spoke for themselves. Unless some miracle transpired, which it wouldn't, then they were out of options. Neither of them were thrilled to head back to the Grunt settlement. You could only piss your enemy off so much before they went nuclear. It would be a rough fight, brutal even.

As for Aiden and Kipp, they weren't fence straddlers; they were in direct opposition. But to say no was borderline insubordination in the captain's mind. Refusing to fight, even when the plan was straight lunacy, was still no excuse to turn tail. If there was even the slimmest chance to get off Titan, to find a way back home, then why not put your life on the line for that? Wasn't that what the war was being fought for anyway?

"If we do this, we need to do it right," Aiden declared. "Not muck it up with silly mistakes that get us leveled. Agree to that, then I'm for it."

"The right was is the only way, Aiden," Rey firmly stated. "We cut corners, we die." He shifted his stare over to Kipp. "And you?"

Kipp's face twisted into a grimace like he ingested something putrid. He clicked his teeth together, tapping his right foot against the hard, cold flooring. "I don't like it, Rey. I really don't. All of this is uncertain. None of us knows if any of this could go our way. It doesn't matter how experienced we may be. We're not equipped to carry this out, and we'll lose people if we try." Kipp laughed nervously, hands instinctively finding their way in his pockets. "I've only been on one raid before, and I didn't even go inside. Why am I even here?"

Rey walked up to Kipp, leaving just a few centimeters of space between their bodies. "Because I need your mind, not your body. Help us out, Kipp, so we can carry this out. You're the last piece of the puzzle here."

"Y'know, the weird shaped ones," Aaron poked.

Kipp cut his eyes over to Aaron and shot up his middle finger in reply. He took a step away from Rey, rubbing his palm across his shaven chin. His gut churned like a restless sea during a hurricane. _Just say no and walk out of here. No one would blame you. Don't be responsible for this massacre._ Kipp opened his mouth to speak, the words almost having a mind of their own. "Just tell me what you need me to do."


	10. Chapter X

**X**

* * *

 **72 HOURS FROM TITAN NIGHT CYCLE**

The core group reconvened 12 hours later, a few of them together in the command room. They were expected to meet within the next 30 minutes to prepare the mission. Rey figured it would be good for them to use the time to digest what was ahead of them. With a few exceptions, the UNSC Army captain could admit that he didn't know most of them well. They were just people he had sworn to protect and keep alive. So to ask them to put their lives on the line for pure survival and the people around them somewhat irked him. He didn't know if they had family or friends waiting for them elsewhere, or whether or not anyone was still alive for them to get back to. All he had was an ex-wife and an estranged daughter; but it was still _someone_. God, he prayed he was making the right decision.

DEV had fired up the TACMAP, laying out everything for the group to review. The Grunt compound was in the center of it all, its entrances and exits all marked. Astrid circled the table, having almost zen-level concentration on every facet of the compound. She'd spent her 12 hours reviewing everything there was to know about the structure—blueprints, engineering, maintenance, high traffic zones and zones less traveled. If they had the power to spare, it would've been nice to access the compound's camera systems… _if_ they were still operational. A peek inside would've worked wonders. It seemed even the simplest surveillance methods weren't available to them. She coordinated small operations, mostly intelligence gathering against the insurgents; this was Rey's forte, not hers. She signed and rested her head on the edge of the table.

Damon came over and touched her shoulder. "You all right?"

"Just trying to figure out what I got myself into," she replied, her voice muffled. Astrid pulled her head up, her nose catching the nearby aroma. "Is that coffee?"

"More of a substitute, really. Ran out of the real stuff a few years ago," Damon shrugged nonchalantly. He handed her one of the two cups in his hands. "Here. Thought you could use it."

" _Danke_." Astrid took the cup, holding in her palms to warm her hands.

"So..." Damon patrolled around the TACMAP, analyzing the numerous notations Astrid had made across the blueprints. It was crude, at best: scribblings, arrows, German expletives that made his brows rise. "How's it lookin'?"

She grunted. "D'you want an open or closed casket?"

"I always preferred a closed casket," Damon masked. "Adds mystery."

"I'm not seeing how you're so calm about this," presumed Astrid.

Damon wasn't flattered; he was just ready to get this over with. Whether he would be alive or not depended on how coordinated they were. He trusted Astrid, to an extent. Her background was sufficient enough to make her qualified, but he couldn't help thinking that he would've preferred someone more battle-tested, someone who had their boots on the ground when the bullets were flying. But she was all they had; everyone else was dead.

"To tell you the truth," he started off, "I'm friggin' terrified; but we're trained not to show fear, 'cause it'll get you killed faster than anything else. Well, that and being stupid. But I wanna live just like everyone else. I don't know if this alien will help us get off this moon, but if there's a chance, then you bet I'll give it everything I got."

Astrid took comfort in his words. She didn't know much about the young corporal, but from what she could see, he was the right choice for Rey's number two. To be one of the few remaining soldiers must've been sobering, a forceful kick into the fray that she imagined he wasn't prepared for. There were lieutenants and sergeants before him, valiant men that Rey had at his disposal when they landed. But now he was only one left standing.

Rey's cot squeaked, gaining the attention of Damon and Astrid. Instead of studious prep work, Rey opting for a recharge. Astrid wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep for, but it was substantial. He staggered out from behind the curtain that closed off his sleeping quarters, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His oily black hair was ruffled, growing just below his ears. He desperately needed a cut.

Yawning, he took a quick glance at the clock on the wall and grumbled. Just a few minutes until they went over the mission's strategy. Whatever. He'd find the energy. He made his way over to Damon and Astrid, lightly slapping the sides of his face with both hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep that long."

"No such thing," Damon brushed off. If there was anyone who needed the sleep, it was Rey. You could only survive off a few hours of sleep before your body crashed and forced you to rest. "The others should be on their way."

Rey nodded. "Good. DEV, where are you?"

The A.I. scooted through the air, landing on the table. "I'm here, sir."

Rey overlooked the work Astrid had completed so far, nodding as he went through it. In an odd way, he felt the most difficult part of the coming raid was over. He never thought he'd be able to convince people that this was their only shot for survival. The actual combat portion of the raid was fine by him: crisscrossing bullets and plasma, coordinating troops, fighting for your objective—that's what Rey knew best. Reaching people, however, was another thing altogether. Some people were just better than others when it came to motivation, to reach their hearts. He hoped he'd done enough to fuel them through this, to fuel _himself_ through this.

Within the next few moments, the others began streaming into the room. First Aaron, Kipp and Aiden, and then Jacen and Noelle. They exchanged limited pleasantries and settled in around the room. Rey looked at them all. To say they were enthused was a gross understatement. The expression on their individual faces ranged from obvious displeasure, pessimism, and general fatigue. He got the feeling none of them had taken the time to sleep.

"This is where we make magic, people," Rey announced. "The plan we formulate here will either guarantee our success or help dig our graves. Let's all aim for the former. So let's get started."

"If we all gather 'round..." Damon waved them closer to the TACMAP.

The five of them made their around the table, each one gaining a vantage point.

"Okay, this is a time sensitive raid, so understand that this will be a night op." Rey glanced at the clock. "The moon's night cycle will start in less than 72 hours. By the time we're finished prepping, we'll be well into nightfall. This will allow us to get in close to the Grunt compound without being readily spotted, possibly infiltrating. We haven't done a night op in a while, but the rules haven't changed. Since we haven't been able to observe the Grunt's sleeping patterns, we don't know how they've adapted to the moon's extended nights—whether they sleep more heavily or have heighten awareness. We simply don't know. As for our entry, I'll let DEV and Astrid take it from here..."

"I do enjoy the spotlight." DEV stopped the rotational spin of the compound and highlighted the numerous ins and outs. "The Grunt compound has a total of twelve entrances and exits, but that number has been reduced to five, due to previous raids, technical issues, and blockades formed by the grunts themselves. The vehicle depot is the latest entry/exit point that is no longer available."

"Oops," Noelle said under her breath.

"But there are two points that DEV and I believe are our best options," Astrid chimed in, pointing at the map. "Here and here. One point on the east end and one around the rear of the building. For our exit strategy, the rear exit is probably best. Schematics show that this used to be the compound's loading docks. It's spacious and can accommodate multiple vehicles. The only issue is that we don't how the grunts are using this space. The docks have four bay doors, which are all sealed. Normally it's not well ventilated, often cold; but with the grunts using the engineer, they could've altered the conditions."

"So there could be a legion of them in there?" Aiden supposed. "That makes _getting out_ a problem."

"It's possible," Astrid had to admit. "The docking bay is the largest space in the compound. If they aren't concerned about personal space, you could easily fit 200 to 250 grunts in there."

A round of hushed expletives went out of their mouths. What kind of exit strategy was that? It was understood they'd have to fight their out, but to face that number of hostile aliens spelled instantaneous failure. They'd be clawed to shreds or shot to smoldering puddles.

"We'd have to clear them out," Damon proposed. "Otherwise, we won't make it out."

"Yeah, but we don't have the ammo for that," Aaron disagreed. "And we're not sitting on explosive ordnance like we used to."

"Then let me finish," Astrid countered. "If the docks are housing the bulk of the grunts, it's safe to say they're comfortable, right? No masks, no tanks—they're enjoying their methane-rich air. Well, what if we blow the bay doors? This moon has 1.4% of methane in its atmosphere, less than one fourth of what the grunts breathe. We blow those doors and they suffocate; and coupled with the severe cold, they'll freeze to death in the process. The only thing we'd need to be concerned about is not tripping over the bodies."

Kipp lightly clapped his hands. "Dang, lady. I guess it's true: there's nothing more dangerous than a woman with a plan."

"I have the alimony papers to prove it," Aiden laughed. "But she lived on Eridanus II, so I can thank the Covenant for dealin' with that."

Rey held up his hands amongst the array of laughter with a smirk on his face. "Let's stay focused, people."

Astrid continued. "DEV and I selected the entry point because it was designed for the maintenance crew. It's a shortcut, really. It leads directly to the engineering conduits of the compound, but it spider-webs into tunnels that were once used for general maintenance purposes: electrical, water filtration, etc. If the engineer alien is mainly focused on machinery, then this is the place to start."

"This also requires us to split into teams," Rey added.

"And what happens when we _actually_ find it?" Noelle inquired. "Do you expect it just to come with us, or are we taking this thing by force? None of us knows who this alien is going to react."

"Yeah, I've been wondering that, too," Aaron concurred. "Tell me we were bagging a human, then that'd be fine, but a floating gas bag with tentacles? Anything is harmless until you try to take it somewhere it doesn't wanna go."

"I have a plan for that," DEV made known. "I analyzed all the available data concerning the Huragok species and a solution for its capture is quite simple: we lure it to us."

DEV's statement seemed to garner their attention.

Jacen unbridled his lips. "How's that?"

"Engineers are single-minded, meaning their only motivation is the upkeep and improvement of any and all technology. _Anything_ that's broken or malfunctioning will attract them. So… we give it something to fix."

"We have one of our vehicles, preferably one of the freighter trucks, parked at the docking bay," Astrid took over. "We plant a low yield explosive against one of the bay doors, just enough to rupture the seals. This should clear out the dock of any Grunt presence. Unless the Grunts have their own procedure to repair breaches, the Engineer should be stimulated to investigate."

"This is why we're splitting up into teams." Rey pressed his finger against the receiving docks. "We'll have one team positioned at the docks. Once that door is breached, it's a waiting game. If the Engineer arrives, that's when they blow the door's remaining seals. The team will then _gently_ encourage the Engineer into the truck's trailer, lock it up, and drive like hell back to camp. That's where you come in, Kipp. You're in charge of the explosives."

Kipp's mouth partially opened. He often wondered just why Rey had selected him to take part. He wasn't adept as a fighter, having only basic weapons training. The best he could provide was technical support, but it suddenly dawned on him what his role was. "Uh… well, if we have the materials, I can rig something up."

"I'm sure we do," said Rey. "DEV will help you."

"And the other team?" Noelle followed up.

"Assault," Rey clarified. "The purpose is to pull as much attention away from the capture team as possible. I don't want the Engineer being caught in a firefight. If this thing is killed, this will have all been for nothing."

A multitude of grunts and groans.

Jacen spoke up. "We're not going to beat the Grunts in a straight up fight. Even with our best fighters, that's an _exceedingly_ tall order. We'd need multiple fallback positions, 'cause we _will_ get pushed back. Noelle and I barely made it out against a handful of them."

"That's because you suck at stealth," mumbled Aaron.

Jacen gave Aaron a sidelong glare, dismissed the remark. He turned his attention to the chart table, circling it with an inquisitive nature. Damon followed his movements, always cautious. He never knew what went on in Pearce's head until he spoke. The word stoic didn't seem appropriate, taking into account his background. Aloof or apathetic would better describe him. Noelle was another monster altogether. Damon figured he could fill a thesaurus with her traits. He hoped it was a good idea to keep them around.

"Where do these doors lead?" Jacen pointed out the secondary entrances along the compound's western points. "I noticed them during our last raid."

DEV rose up, his body shifting, reconfiguring, like he'd compressed the information and needed to process it. "They connect to the utility tunnels underneath the building."

"How many tunnels?" Jacen asked next.

DEV hesitated for a beat. "Four. Two across, two down. They merge in the center."

Jacen pulled up from the chart table. "Well, there you go. Four points of ingress and egress. If the Grunts don't know about these tunnels, why not just smuggle the Engineer out of there? Saves us from a big fight, conserves ammo, and gives us relatively safe passage back to the vehicles."

Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. It was a tactically sound strategy, but it also meant scouring the compound to find the Engineer and coerce it follow them down in the tunnels. They'd be caught long before that happened.

"I see your point," Astrid prepared to disagree, "but it doesn't seem practical. It's too many unknowns. We don't know the integrity of those tunnels, whether or not it's safe to use them. Not mention our goal is to _lure_ the Engineer to us, not go on a scavenger hunt in the middle of a Grunt fortress."

Jacen consulted the A.I. "DEV, do any of these tunnels connect to engineering?"

"They're utility tunnels, so… duh."

Rey sighed in aggravation. "DEV..."

"Always the killer of joy, Captain." DEV lifted up the top layer of the compound and highlighted the four utility tunnels. He isolated the second tunnel that ran the length of the building, pinpointing a small section near the southern tip of where the tunnel ended. "Schematics shows that this area here is positioned directly underneath engineering, the location where you initially discovered the Huragok. A service ladder should be nearby that will bring you up into the room via a sealed hatch. It locks from the inside, so you'd be able to access it."

Damon rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. "That's great. Now what?"

Jacen figured they'd catch on, but the skepticism appeared to blind them. He didn't blame them. They already had a plan in mind, and any deviation from that may've been an overwhelming risk they weren't willing to take. But that's what they were here for, to give their input. "We get into engineering and, instead of damaging a door seal in the docks, we hit them where it hurts—the oxygenator. It's how their atmosphere is created. We damage it, at least enough to get their attention, and the Grunts send in the Engineer. We neutralize any escorts with it and bring it down in the tunnels with us, seal it up, and we're out."

No one spoke for a few moments, the gears turning in their heads. For Rey, it wasn't the best strategy he'd ever heard, but in their circumstances, it was a solid method. A snag or two would effectively deflate the whole thing, but that was with any strategy. It could work, barring a few adjustments to the personnel.

"I like it," Rey finally admitted.

Astrid gave him a _what the hell_ look.

Rey met her eyes, holding a reassuring hand up to her. "Let's consider the dynamics: simply damaging the oxygenator won't have an instantaneous affect. If we were to shut off the oxygen within the camp, we wouldn't know it for hours. Same idea for the Grunts. For maximum success, I say we take it a step further, killing two birds with one stone—we _destroy_ the oxygenator. Without their Engineer there to repair it, the atmosphere dies off and it solves our Grunt problem; and we ensure that by enacting Astrid's plan. However, instead of a low yield explosive, we blow that whole docking bay open. The secondary team will move in through the tunnels, blow the oxygenator, and wait for the Engineer."

Noelle raised a single finger. "Isn't that a bit much? The Engineer may not be interested in the oxygenator if all the Grunts are scrambling from the dock blast."

"A one-two punch," Rey said. "The oxygenator is the first target to go. Once the Engineer comes to investigate, _then_ we attack the docking bay. That should stir enough confusion to smuggle the Engineer out with minimal enemy contact." Rey nodded, more to himself than the others. "This could work." He settled his eyes on the group, meeting each of their faces. "Any objections?"

Aaron adjusted his pants to fit on his waist with a grunt. "I think we all universally object, but… hell, let's go for it."

"Then let's get organized," Rey finalized.

* * *

There was a growing turmoil inside of Damon's gut. He walked through the interior of the camp, just outside of the living blocks. The group had disbanded hours ago once everything was set. The only thing that remained was getting the gear and vehicles squared. He figured they'd need sufficient ammo, enough to last the mission and then some for possible snags. That would leave them just above being critically low. He hoped this would be the last time they'd have to fire their weapons. Bullets couldn't be replaced as easy as they were before.

And then there was their vehicle situation. They had two Warthogs on the decline, one badly requiring shocks and rear brakes that were practically metal on metal. Maybe Kipp could figure something out. But that wasn't the worst of it: the freighter truck was their means of extracting the Engineer out, and it was by far the riskiest vehicle they had. The thing hadn't run in a year. There was a possibility the battery was dead or the fluids were too thick to flow properly. Lastly, it needed a solenoid purge valve. If that thing stalled on them, they were dead.

Damon kept his eyes firmly on the colorless floor ahead of him. He didn't know how many people may've passed him, but he couldn't bear to look at them. They were walking corpses if they failed. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was going to come out alive. He wished he had the confidence Rey saw in him. The shoes he'd had to fill was a constant burden on his shoulders; and it was only by the grace of God he'd maintained thus far. Rey often said he deserved an officer's rank after what he'd done so far. Maybe that was true, but it wasn't like Damon had any other choice. The others were dead. He _had_ to step up.

Whatever. Damon put it out of his mind for the time being. He had other matters to handle. There was still the issue the perimeter walk: the broken fence, the blood. It'd had taken a backseat to the Engineer discovery, but Damon couldn't leave it alone. If there was even small change they were infiltrated by an unknown person or persons, he _had_ to know.

He eventually made his way into the camp's clinic. Over the years, it remained the only place Damon could sleep properly. Maybe it was the clean, sterile nature of the atmosphere. It always smelled of disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, and an underline odor that Damon could never quite figure out. Dirty laundry? Cigarette smoke masked by a pitiful fragrance? One may never know.

Damon went through the glass double doors, passing a row of sparsely positioned chairs on both sides of the entry way. A few people sat patiently in them, some of their faces flushed or dried out. Muscle and joint issues were the most common, Damon came to find out. The gravity on Titan was slightly weaker than that on Earth's moon, causing mild muscle atrophy to osteoporosis and negative effects on the balance, bone density, and cardiovascular system. If they ever got back to Earth, he imagined they'd have a hard time adjusting back.

He went up the front desk where the receptionist was sitting, her head low as she scribbled on a yellowing notepad. Damon remained patient, clasping his hands on the cold ceramic counter.

"I'd appreciate if you kept your filthy hands off my desk," the receptionist suddenly said. She still hadn't looked up, but she knew Damon's smell, his mannerisms, and those _hands._ She set a small bottle of sanitizer on the counter and pointed to it, head yet to rise.

Damon sighed and squirted the transparent liquid into his palm before rubbing it into his skin. "You fail to disappoint, Donna. How are you this lovely autumn afternoon?"

Donna checked the condescending tone in his voice and rolled her brown eyes that made her fledgling wrinkles more prominent. She retained a measure of youth for her age. "The day is still young, for now." She stopped writing. "Did your mother know who dirty you keep your hands?"

Damon vented a nervous laugh. If he'd known walking in with an acute sinus infection one day would spark an interrogation, he would've checked in to medical to avoid an epidemic. "I thought you were my mother, Donna. Listen, is Colin here?"

"The day he _isn't_ is the day I finally sleep in my own bed," grumbled Donna. "He's free right now, but you better make it quick."

"Thank you, Donna." Damon walked into the back, passing the one-room examination station and into the interior offices. A bit of stirring emanated from one of the two procedure rooms. Damon went around the corner to see a man crouched low, rummaging through the cabinets with hair white as snow. "Dr. Mathison."

Dr. Colin Mathison looked over his shoulder with a surprised expression that went across his olive green eyes. He stood up with a groan, fetching his white coat he left folded across the gurney. "Mr. Vasher." He glanced at his watch. "A little early. You turning in already?"

Damon shook his head as he stepped into the room. "No, I'm fine. I came to talk to you, actually."

Mathison removed his frame-less glasses and cleaned off the lenses with furrowed brows. "Oh? I have a few moments before my next patient. What's on your mind? Still having trouble sleeping?"

"No, this isn't about me," Damon waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm looking into something and I thought you'd be able to help."

Mathison nodded, nibbling on his thin lips. He went over and slid the door shut. "All right..."

"In the past day cycles, have you noticed any of your supplies being missing or unusually low?"

Mathison pinched his smooth chin, ponderous. He leaned his 5'10" frame against the counter and aimed his eyes on the floor like he was counting the linoleum tiles. It was a question he certainly wasn't expecting, nor was it something that never merited his concern. "Not that I've noticed, no. I mean, I do an inventory once a month… well, what _would_ be a month if we weren't here. What have you found?"

Damon sunk his hands into his pockets and widened his stance with a deep inhale/exhale. "I don't know yet. It may have occurred between your checks."

Mathison wore a vexed expression. "You think someone's stealing the supplies, perhaps self-medicating?"

"It's a possibility, but I don't think that's the case." Damon could see his words were beginning to trouble Mathison. The good doctor must've found it horrifying that some of his supplies may've gone missing. Not as much as a cotton swap wasted under his care. If anyone knew how precious rationing supplies was, it was him. The day they depleted their medical stock weighed heavily on Mathison's narrow shoulders.

"Look, Dr. Mathison, a few of us are headed out again. It's another raid, a big one. We leave in the next 30 hours or so, but if you could procure a list of your current supplies and compare them to your last inventory, I'd like to see where we stand. Okay?"

Mathison nodded. "I can do that."

"Thanks." Damon turned and prepared to walk out before Mathison called after him.

"What's the captain got you raiding this time?"

Damon looked back at him, considered the question. He laughed. "If I make it back, you'll see."


	11. Chapted XI

**XI**

* * *

Jacen watched the last sliver of sunlight melt into the horizon, drawing a curtain of darkness over the surface like some sort of final act. It was in that moment that he visualized the sky coming alive with a brilliant array of stars and the massive guardian Saturn overlooking Titan as its underling; but no such fantasy came to be. In reality, it was only an everlasting, impenetrable overcast where not a single star was visible. It seemed fitting, considering everything.

Across the camp he could see the dim lights wink on across the structures that the generators struggled to keep lit. A long night was a severe understatement, and most of the refugees couldn't tolerate the night cycle. Maybe it was the underline fear and anxiety of being in the dark on a foreign world. Four years, in Jacen's mind, was long enough to adjust; but maybe it just seemed harder for some people. It was unnatural, for sure: over 340+ hours of darkness without a shred of sunlight. Coupled with the Covenant threat always looming overhead, the dark was just something else for them to be afraid of.

Soft footfalls sounded behind him. He disengaged and turned to see Noelle walking up to him, adjusting her gear with several weapons slung across her back. She went up to one of the crates and unslung the pair of MA37 rifles to set them down with an exhale.

"We're about to roll," she reported. "Rey wants us to meet for some last minute details."

Jacen stepped over and picked up the assault rifle with mild displeasure.

"Aaron's our best marksmen. He copped the DMR. Don't know why; we don't have much ammo left for it."

"Aaron is resourceful, and also our best shot." Jacen rifled through the sling pack Noelle brought in with her, pulling out four of the eight total magazines inside. He inserted one in the rifle's empty slot until it clicked, hit the safety, and slung it across his back. "He'll make it work."

Noelle didn't seem convinced. She figured Aaron just wanted the best weapon. It had the highest impact, greater range. While they fought with Grunts in their faces, he'd sit back and take shots from relative safety. Classic Aaron, the sneak. Whatever. As long as he did his job, held down his assignment, then maybe they'd make it out alive. She brought out a plasma pistol from inside her pack and set it on the crate in front of Jacen.

"Fully charged. We have enough for everyone to have at least one and an additional battery, but that's it. Pick your targets wisely, I guess."

Jacen took the pistol with caution, following Noelle's movements with his eyes. She stowed away her own gear at a leisurely pace, the right corner of her mouth gently tugging like she'd tasted something sour.

"What?" he asked.

He'd said it so gingerly that Noelle barely heard him. She raised her eyes up at him, holding contact for a few seconds before looking away to shift the gear around in her pack. "It's nothing."

Jacen rolled his eyes. He set his hand atop her pack and moved it to the side so she couldn't reach it. "It's never _nothing_ with you. Talk. We may not get the chance later."

She winced. "That's what I'm worried about. I don't know what's going to happen tonight. We can't lose anymore people."

"I know," replied Jacen, removing a band of hair from her face and pinning it behind her ear. "Since the start, we've survived everything humans _and_ aliens have tossed at us. I'm not saying we're invulnerable. We'll die one day, but on our terms." He put his hand on her shoulder, craning low his head to look her in the eye. "But not here. One fight at a time, hobbit. One fight at a time."

 _One fight at a time._ The words were practically scripture in Noelle's head, read and applied so much that they became second nature. But somehow, she still remained stalled between the hemispheres of fear and doubt and—oddly enough—solace. The peace, though, was fleeting without foundation. She didn't know whether their actions tonight would accomplish that. She only knew that it was just more fight with an uncertain outcome. Did Jacen feel the same way? She wouldn't ask him. He'd just deflect, say everything was okay and that they'd make it through somehow. The man was impossible sometimes, mentally impregnable almost. You never knew what he was thinking until he opened his mouth. She _hated_ feeling this way—unbalanced. Nevertheless, she'd have to swallow it down and _"crecer un pene"_ as her _abuelo_ would say.

With that, she stowed her own weapons and flipped the pack over her right shoulder. "We should go."

* * *

Rey went over everything they had with an expression that could only be described as a longing despair. He forced himself to reconcile with what little they had, and that even capturing an Engineer wouldn't help them with depleting ammunition and deteriorating gear. Rey always hated the "when life gives you lemons" saying. His mother ran the saying into the dirt and into the earth's core by the time he enlisted. Nevertheless, it reigned ever true. Up to this point, he had his doubts that he'd have participants standing by his side to attempt this lunacy. He'd made lemonade out of withering, bitter fruit that barely had enough juice to wet your mouth; and yet, it tasted sweet.

Jacen and Noelle came walking in, taking their positions with the rest of the group. Rey regarded them with a subtle nod before turning his attention to the everyone else. "I know we're all revving to get this done, but it doesn't hurt to cover our basis again and know our assignments. The only way this will work is if we have flawless teamwork. Anything less and we run the risk of the operation falling apart."

Rey let his last sentence sink in before moving on. "Okay, let's go over teams. Team Alpha, comprising of myself, Damon, Jacen, and Aiden, will lead by using the utility tunnels to reach engineering. Team Bravo: Aaron, Noelle, Kipp—you're positioned at our exit point with the vehicle. We'll need you ready to move when we come out with the Engineer. You'll be sprawled out, as you know. Aaron, you're our marksman. We need those spotters down."

"I'll get in as close as I can, cut some range," Aaron nodded.

"Good." Rey turned to Noelle. "Once the spotters are down and the vehicle is in place, you'll make your way around to the receiving bay doors. Stay out of sight. Take a wider route, if you need to. When we have the Engineer, I need you to take out one of those bay doors. How many rounds do we have for the SPNKr?"

"Two," Noelle answered. "One for the door and another in case things get… crowded."

"Just know that when that rocket hits, you need to haul back to the vehicle for support," Rey instructed. "We don't know how much heat will be on us."

"Let's not forget the comm delays," DEV announced, his volume increased.

Rey jerked his head around to the floating A.I. with furrowed brows. "I though you and Kipp solved that little problem?"

Kipp scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. It was news he knew Rey didn't want to hear—what _any_ of them wanted to hear. Too many setbacks would tank any operation, but Kipp figured this wouldn't be the last time they received bad news. It certainly wasn't the first.

"We worked out the kinks the best we could, but we're dealing with short-range comms to begin with. The static is going to be there, nothing we can do about that. But the further we're away from each other, the long the delays. The longest delay DEV and I experienced was maybe a minute and thirteen seconds, and that's being 100 yards apart. Anything lesser is maybe 45 seconds or lower."

"That's going to throw our coordination off," Aiden commented.

"Or get someone killed," Aaron sounded off. "If we get separated, which is a strong possibility, we run the risk not be able to warn someone in time of a potential threat. By the time it takes our voice to reach that person, it could be too late."

"Then we make sure we stay together," Rey figured, "make sure we're no more than a few seconds out of contact." He turned to face Noelle, Kipp, and Aaron. "Bravo Team, you're the only ones who'll be mostly affected by the comm delay. You also have the most critical assignments. Noelle, when I radio that we have the Engineer, blow the door. Kipp, I need that vehicle ready to roll when we load it up. Aaron, unless we get in trouble, you stay back and pick off as many targets as you can. Keep 'em off us. Team Alpha's warthog will pick you up. We may need that second rocket to ensure our escape, Noelle. And _please_ tell me that truck it up for it, Kipp. You've had more than enough time to get it ready."

Kipp felt as if all eyes were on him. For a man who had the least amount of combat experience, he never expected much to be leveled on his shoulders for the raid; but then again, Rey was true to his word: he needed Kipp's _mind_ , not his body.

"The M18 is the best vehicle we have right now, but…," Kipp sighed and spat it out. There was no reason to be timid. "… it's a piece of junk, really. It can run; it's just the solenoid purge valve that's the issue. We don't have a replacement for it, and trust me, DEV and I searched the other vehicles. Once we get her started, there's a possibility she may stall out en route. Worst yet, she could stall when we're trying to make our escape."

Rey massaged his forehead with a forceful exhale. He scratched the corner of his mouth with his pinky, feeling his heavy scruff poking underneath his fingernail. "And if it stalls—how long will it take to get it started again?"

"Anywhere between five to ten minutes," Kipp guesstimated.

"That's too long, especially if we're up to our necks in alien dwarfs," Aiden pointed out.

"You know we will," Damon added.

"Then we hold them back." Rey didn't realize he'd raised his voice until he noticed the group staring back at him like concerned pupils in a classroom. He lowered his tone. "We roll with what we have, we adapt. The moment we doubt ourselves is the moment we don't come back. So if we're done with this type of talk, where are we with the capture device?"

This time Kipp didn't hesitate. "We're all set," he said with confidence. He reached for his rucksack behind him and pulled out cylinder canister with streaks of pale golden light around its seams. "I'm sure everyone here is familiar with the UNSC's bubble shields. DEV and I were able to modify it. When deployed, it traps anything inside. We increased the kinetic resistance, meaning we'll be able to physically guide it where it needs to go. It also protects the Engineer from possible crossfire. There is a catch, though..."

Rey sighed, "Of course there is."

Kipp continued. "The bubble will degrade over time. It'll completely collapse after three minutes or so."

"So we have three minutes to get that Engineer _through_ the building and _into_ the M18?" Aaron commented. "Fantastic."

"Technically, you have two minutes and fifty-eight seconds, but I wish not to be a stickler," DEV voiced.

Rey gave the A.I. a sidelong look before slipping his hands into his pockets. "We'll adjust where we can." Rey looked at them all: Astrid, Damon, Aaron, Jacen, Noelle, Aiden, Kipp, and even the insufferable DEV. He didn't know if he'd see all of them alive again, if they'd ever see _him_ alive again. It was one giant toss-up. They were as prepared as they were ever going to be, snags included.

 _A man has to earn trust, boy; and a leader ain't nothing without the trust of the people._ _You want their trust, then show them that you're one of them; that you can bleed, that you can sweat, that you can endure. If you can do that, you can lead 'em all, son._

Rey just hoped those words remained true. "Any questions before we move out?" he asked.

The group didn't say anything. By this time, there was nothing more to discuss. No more analyzing, no more objections, no more stalling. It was time to muzzle up and allow their actions to speak for them now.

"Get your gear," Rey ordered. "We roll in two hours."

* * *

The lead Warthog plowed through the terrain, followed closely by the M18 truck. Their headlights sliced through the near-impenetrable darkness, so dark you would've been hard pressed to see your hand right in front your face. No one said a word. Damon was behind the wheel of the Hog, finding himself having to loosen the unnaturally tight grip he had on the steering wheel. He reasoned it was just his nerves. The night-vision monocular was, for now, holding up. It lit up the surrounding landscape in a sea of green and black, but there was nothing to see for miles. They wouldn't reach the Grunts for another twenty minutes or so. Damon decided to use that time to get his mind straight. He knew years of training would take over when the adrenaline hit, but the buildup created an unbearable angst he couldn't quite shake.

Jacen sat in the Warthog's rear with Aiden, eyes forward and unblinking behind his shades. To get this far probably didn't seem real to him, not yet anyway. It would turn _very_ real in time; he was sure of that. He was confident of the strategy. It was sound, well planned. He wouldn't be cavalier in his thinking to say they'd accounted for every possible scenario, but they were pretty close. Rey deserved credit for that, at least. The aging army captain was settled in the passenger seat; his head turning neither to the left nor to the right. Always straight ahead.

He took an extended look behind the Hog, squinting into the headlights of the M18. He could barely make out Kipp behind the wheel and Aaron in the passenger seat. Noelle was probably in the rear of the cab, tuning out Aaron to the best of her abilities. He wanted to open a private channel, give her some last minute advice or encouragement. She'd accept neither, he suspected; but the piss-poor radios they had weren't capable of such a luxury. You key the comm and you'd spam everyone in range.

A shift in Rey's posture garnered Jacen's attention. He leaned forward in his seat, pressing his finger against his earpiece. "We're ten miles out now. ETA is five minutes. Know your call-signs. You got something casual to say, keep it to yourself. Don't dump that junk on open comms. Bravo-One, come in..."

There was a five second delay before Aaron replied. " _Go for Bravo-One_."

Rey winced at that. It felt too long, even though the M18 was right behind them. "Move up and get into position. It's almost time to break off. And cut the lights, defer to NV."

The engine to the M18 revved a few seconds later, pulling up alongside the Warthog's passenger side. Aaron leaned forward around Kipp and waved to Rey. After a two second delay, his voice came through to Rey. _"_ _We'll scout ahead and take a wide angle. Hopefully we'll see them before they see us."_

Rey held a thumb's up. He fixed his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Damon.

"Captain!"

Rey jerked his head around to face Damon. "What?"

Damon pointed ahead. "I don't ever remember the compound being lit up like that."

Rey placed a firm grip on the frame of the windshield and stood up. Jacen and Aiden sat rod straight, craning their necks to see what the corporal had noticed. He was right. It seemed every exterior light the compound had was turned on, standing out like a lone light in a dark room. Even before they knew the Grunts had power, they hadn't used the building's lights on previous night ops before. Why the change?

"Neither have I. Slow down a little. We need to—"

What seemed to look like a signal flare ascended into the night sky from the rooftops of the Grunt compound, glowing a vibrate mixture of emerald and blue. It streaked across the sky, its trajectory unknown from it's continual ascension.

Aiden switched off his NV monocular from the glare for a better look. "What the hell is that?"

Jacen slung his rifle across his torso, slowly standing with the Hog rocking from side to side. He tracked it with his eyes as the ball of light appeared to expand in size as it approached. His core tightened. Jacen hit his radio. "Contact! That's a friggin' mor—"

The sphere of light dove for them and detonated.


	12. Chapter XII

**XII**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _It's been quite some time since I've uploaded. Life's obligations are quite the annoyance. Nevertheless, I plan to upload more chapters more frequently. Until enjoy, enjoy this latest release of The Refugee._

* * *

Damon fought to keep the Warthog from rolling over. He'd jerked the wheel so hard to avoid the sizzling ball of light that he nearly sent everyone flying. The impact detonated somewhere between behind them, but none of them dared to look; but they could feel the undeniable heat given off from the superheated ordnance. It pricked their skin underneath their suits, feeling blistered and scorched like a lit match close to the skin.

Damon regained control, planting all four tires back on the ground before slamming on the breaks. He turned to see Rey releasing the vice-like grip he had on the Hog's frame, while Jacen and Aiden untangled themselves with grunts and sharp expletives.

"Is everyone all right?" Damon asked them.

"Hell no!" Aiden growled, shoving Jacen's leg off of him. He worked his jaw from side to side with his hand, knowing it was probably bruised from slamming into the back of Rey's seat. "What was that?"

Rey shook his head to clear the disorientation, the ringing slowing ebbing away in his ears. He adjusted his shades and looked back to see where it hit. It turned the soil into what appeared to be smoldering shards of glass with glowing hot fringes that rapidly began to cool. It was all too familiar, all too reminiscent of billions the Covenant vaporized via orbital bombardments. So many worlds lost, and now they were in humanity's backyard. Was Earth even still there?

There was a swaying sensation Rey felt, his body being rocked back and forth. Then there was voice. It was barely audible, but it kept growing and growing in volume until he finally realized it was Damon practically shouting at him.

"Captain Anderton! Captain! _Rey_ , you hear me?"

Rey snapped to attention, staring into the reflective shades of corporal Damon Vasher. "That was a plasma mortar," he spoke at last. "We're blown. Stealth isn't going to work now. We go in guns blazing."

Jacen pointed in the sky. "And what about the mortars?"

"As long we get the hell out the way, they shouldn't be an issue," Rey answered. He keyed up his radio. "Bravo, give me your status?"

The radio sizzled open after ten seconds. " _I nearly pissed myself, but other than that, we're okay_ ," Aaron came in. " _What's the play, Rey? They obviously know we're here._ "

"Full assault. We hold nothing back. We'll deal with the mortar, draw it's attention. Kipp, drive like hell and get the M18 into position. Aaron, disembark and start picking off whatever you see. Get moving!" Rey cut the radio and addressed his team. "Damon, line us up with the mortar. Watch it's trajectory. The rest of us will open fire on the rooftops. Once we're in close, we'll fall out and move inside. Drop anything that isn't human. Let's hit it."

Damon dropped the Hog into gear and slammed his boot on the gas. The vehicle revved, rear tires churning as it fishtailed into acceleration. Rey leaned out, shouldering his embattled BR55. It had been a while since he'd used the weapon, but if he could ever call an inanimate object his _friend_ , his rifle would qualify. He pulled his NV monocular down and looked through the scope. There wasn't any movement on the rooftops, but he was sure they were up there. Both Jacen and Aiden stood up, holding onto the angular frame that separated the front seats from the back. They held their rifles at the ready, aiming for the rooftops.

Another mortar was shot off, the first and then another. Damon's hands tightened on the wheel and his teeth gritted. He kept the Hog centered, gradually accelerating toward the compound. The M18 sped up, veering away from the Hog as it faded into the darkness until Jacen couldn't see it any longer. He turned back to face the incoming mortars that were now larger than they were before. The Warthog began to ease out of their path, moving to the left. A cerulean flare of light from the mortar lit up the area as it passed them, splashing into the surface with violent force. The second mortar hit somewhere out of view, but Jacen could feel the heat roil up his back. He held on as the Warthog began taking a wide approach as the compound began to appear larger and larger. The mortar's trajectory began to shallow up; the explosions felt closer, more violent. It wouldn't matter. At this rate, the mortar couldn't aim low enough to hit them; but if Jacen learned anything about the Covenant, he knew they _always_ had a contingency plan.

The vehicle came to a stop beside the building and Rey jumped out, head on a swivel. "Disembark. Let's go!" He walked around to Damon as Jacen and Aiden hopped out and made a perimeter. "Pull around and ghost the Hog. Take it slow. If you encounter any surprises, haul outta here. This Warthog is all we have."

"Copy that." Damon eased on the gas and crawled alongside the face of the building until turning right around the corner and out of sight.

Rey brought up the compound's altered schematics that Astrid and DEV had worked up. The targeted service entrance was up ahead. If everything was correct, the tunnels would lead directly underneath engineering.

Jacen brought up the rear behind Rey and Aiden as they approached the corner. He stole a look behind him—clear. They came to a halt and Rey began to slowly take a knee. The mortars had ceased from firing and the eerie silence the moon emitted had returned. That only meant one thing to Jacen—the Grunts were organizing. He tensed. Motion appeared on his wrist-mounted data reader. One blip, green. Damon came creeping around the corner, one hand raised as the other secured his rifle.

"Where'd you ghost the Hog?" Rey asked him.

Damon pointed over his shoulder. "About thirty yards south, tucked behind one of the old radar dishes."

"Good." Rey stood up and took point. He pointed forward and began to cautiously edged around the structure. "Let's move in. They know we're here, but keep it tight. No noise. Surprise is our best weapon we have if we want the jump on 'em."

There was no response from the others; they simply fell in line and moved in wedge formation against the side of the building. There was no telling where Bravo Team was. They hadn't radioed in since veering off from the mortars. Maybe they were already in position and Aaron was on overwatch. Jacen just hoped Noelle kept her head and didn't take any risks. He wasn't concerned about Kipp. If the crude hit the fan, he'd know what to do when the time came.

They arrived at the service entrance, a sealed door of solid lead with chipped and faded caution paint around the fringes. There was no panel to enter an alphanumeric code, just a standard handhold depressing in the metal. Rey clipped his rifle to his chest rig's tether and flipped it over his back before digging his fingers into the handhold. He strained the pull it open, but the door only groaned without moving.

He waved to the trio huddled around him. "Gimmie a hand."

Aiden pushed up, he and Rey taking a firm hold on the door as Jacen and Damon held the area. They set their feet in the damp soil and pulled with their combined strength. The door screeched against its track, stubborn and nearly rusted shut. The reddish-orange corrosion flaked and surrendered against the door's seams and it opened. Rey and Aiden tumbled back on one another as the door practically flew open, sliding off its track and leaning off one of it's hinges.

Damon toggled the light on his M7 sub-machine gun and aimed down the dark tunnels. "No lights. Night-vision throughout until engineering."

"Perfect." Rey got his feet, turning around to help Aiden up. He brushed the soil off his pants and keyed his COM. "Bravo-Two, are you in position?" He motioned for Aiden, Damon, and Jacen to get inside the tunnels as he awaited for a reply.

Kipp's voice came screaming through with an ear-jab of static moments later. _"_ _We're in position. Bollocks! How'd they know we were coming? Mortars?_ _We nearly got blown to bits_ _."_

"It seems they've bolstered their defenses," Rey replied. "We knew that was a possibility. We're moving in the service tunnels now. Stay alert once he blow the oxygenator. Pass the word along to Noelle. She'll know what to do."

Kipp sighed. _"You seem to missing the point. This raid is scrapped. We can't fight them all."_

"We're not scrapping anything," countered Rey. "Keep your head. Stay in contact and _don't_ engage the enemy unless you have to."

Rey cut the COM and went in after the others. He followed the swaying beams of light until he caught up with them, stepping up between Jacen and Damon to take point. A quick view of the schematics placed them less than a hundred yards from engineering. He pictured the Grunts swarming above them, all charged with adrenaline and methane flowing through their lungs. They wanted to kill. At least the feeling was mutual.

The four of them reached a tunnel that ran perpendicular to their path. Jacen took a knee at the edge, leaning forward to scope both ends. Clear. Engineering was to their right, and from what he could see, it appeared they were alone. As a matter of fact, it seemed like the Grunts never used the service tunnels at all. There was no trace of them. No footprints, no smell—nothing. Maybe this would work. The temperature in the tunnels was -152°, too frigid for the Grunts to survive without protective gear. Chasing them through the tunnels might've been a risk too great for the little aliens.

"We're getting close," Rey announced to the group. He flipped his NV monocular up and viewed his TACMAP. Their entry point was just up ahead and he could feel his stomach tighten. He didn't know where the Engineer was, and with the Grunts alerted of their presence, he wasn't too keen on the idea of having a sit-and-wait attitude.

Aaron's voice spilled into his earpiece. _"Captain, I've got some activity outside. The Grunts have abandoned their mortar and have headed back inside. I don't think they know where you are, but I'm not a hundred percent. Should I move up, find another vantage point? I think I can get to the roof and disable the mortar."_

Rey shook his head. "No, I don't want you getting cornered. Keep your distance, but you have a green light on changing positions. Keep us posted."

" _Copy,"_ Aaron replied.

They proceeded with caution, reaching the old service ladder that led up into engineering. The hatch above was, as expected, was sealed from their side. There was no telling what was on the other side. A Grunt could be standing right above them, gun in hand, and ready to fire. They certainly hoped not, but they were paranoid buggers now. Anything could happen.

"Who's going first?" Rey asked them.

Aiden wagged his finger between himself and Damon. "Not us. Black guys always die first."

"Are you _really_ black, though?" Damon suspected. "You hardly season your food."

"You also bake your fried chicken," Jacen added. "I find that suspicious."

"Hey, cut the chatter!" Rey reined in. "Pearce, get us inside. And we all know Aiden couldn't handle a red pepper flake, so the discussion is over."

Aiden raised his middle finger and panned it across the others' field of view.

Jacen flipped his rifle over his back and ascended up the ladder with a chuckle. He anchored his feet, slowly placing his hands around the lock's handle. A gentle tug revealed it wouldn't move without more pressure. He rolled his eyes. The thought of a loud _clang_ from disengaging the lock was the last thing they needed. They're stealth approach might've been blown, but that didn't mean they could get careless. He pinched his eyes shut yanked on the lock with his strength.

The lock slid back with an unsettling _bang_ against the metal with a screech. If there were any Grunts above them, they'd have to be deaf not to hear it. Jacen drew his sidearm and removed the safety. Pressing his forearm against the hatch, he applied some upward pressure. The hard metal scraped against the edges, groaning with much noise.

"Screw it," Jacen said under his breath. He forced all his weight into the hatch and it flipped open. Sidearm first, he emerged, looking to shoot the first curious alien he saw. There was nothing there. It was clear. He looked down at the three below and nodded before pulling the rest of his body through. Rey, Damon, and Aiden came shuffling up as Jacen kept his aim on the open doorway in front of him. The hatch was nestled in the back of a maintenance room, its shelves filled with discarded wires, cords, and plastic containers—one way in, one way out. That could work.

"Leave the hatch open," Rey recommended. "I have a feeling we'll be making a quick escape. Pearce, lead the way. Get us to the oxygenator."

Jacen switched back to his rifle and went out the door. To his left and right were tables jutting out of the walls, topped with dead computers and keyboards so thick with grime that the keys didn't work. He could hear the humming generators close by, all powered by infused Covenant tech. All of it wouldn't matter once they blew the oxygenator. No amount of augmentation of the old human machines could replace the methane-rich air they breathed.

Memories resurfaced as he guided them through engineering: he and Noelle scrambling for their lives, plasma bolts striking everything around them. Every corner he turned basically retraced their many steps they'd made to get out this hellish place. Blackened marks on the walls were still there from the previous encounter, now cold and no longer smoldering.

They all took a sudden knee as the sound of Grunts chirped nearby. From their chatter, they were in a full alert. The hunt was on for their human prey. Damon changed where he was kneeling, moving away from one of the open doorways. A few Grunts waddled by, unarmed but moving quickly to an unknown location.

Rey exhaled. "Okay. I think we're good. Let's keep mov—" Rey shut his mouth, tilting his head. "Hold on." He couldn't pinpoint it, but there was an acute _sizzling_ sound that buzzed in his ear. "You guys hear that? I… oh, Christ, MOVE!"

A Grunt came screaming around the corner, holding two smoldering plasma grenades in its hands.

The four of them shot up and backpedaled into the adjacent room, packed tight from the ventilation system. Thick metal pipes snaked through the room with valves on their bodies, coupled with humming fans and electrical panels. The Grunt detonated just outside the doorway, blowing back the four men through the narrow walkways. Pipes bursts, spitting nuts and washers around them at the speed of bullets. Heated white steam vented out, heating the room so much that their suits could barely maintain a balanced temperature.

Rey kept his head low, pulling himself out of the pile between Damon and Jacen. Aiden was further into the room, away from the stream and near the network of electrical panels and controls. He grabbed Damon by his ankles and dragged him back as Jacen slowly began to crawl away.

"Everyone good?" Rey shouted over the hissing pipe. "Sac up! I've got hostiles moving in."

With a groan, Jacen got to his feet, shaking off the disorientation. It was safe to say those Grunts walking by earlier weren't coincidence. They knew exactly where they were and probably _why_ they were there. Perfect. The dwarfs wised up.

Damon and Aiden took up positions in the rear, guns aimed toward the doorway as Jacen moved up beside Rey. A Grunt wasn't getting through the door without taking fire. The motions sensors were going crazy. Individual red blips no longer registered; instead, they all just pooled into a red smear that migrated toward them.

"Back up!" Rey pulled away from the door and went back to where Damon and Aiden were. Jacen followed suit. "Get ready. They're about to come through."

No sooner than the words came out of Rey's mouth, the first Grunt showed it's unmasked face, and it wasn't alone. Within a few seconds, the doorway that just measured three feet wide was packed to the frame with Grunts. There must've twenty—no—thirty or so just trying to squeeze through. They were all unarmed, fueled with nothing but unbridled rage and an insatiable appetite for their human intruders.

"Weapons free, weapons free!" Rey commanded.

Jacen squeezed the trigger, swaying his rifle from side to side until his ammo reader ticked down to zero. The first row of Grunts took the bulk of the gunfire, piling up in the doorway and began making a small mound of corpses. The others simply crawled over their fallen brethren and kept coming. Luminescent blood inked out on the floor in nauseating volume, splashing out like ocean spray against the rocks on the shore. Aiden unfastened a frag grenade from his chest rig and chucked it into the crowd. The blast, coupled with the methane-rich air, cleared a dozen of them and injured scores more. Stubby limbs and more blood ballooned in every direction imaginable.

The men steadily moved back, swapping out empty magazines for full ones as fast as their hands could move. They wouldn't be able to hold them back, and their ammo wouldn't last much longer. The grenade slowed them down, creating an almost impregnable wall of dead aliens that prevented the others from coming through.

Rey took one last shot to empty his magazine, speaking a Grunt through the right eye-socket that was trying to squeeze through. "Damon, get on those computers and red-line these valves. Bust 'em. If they try to get through, the steam will melt 'em."

Damon went to work. "I'm on it."

"We're out of our depth, Rey," Aiden mentioned as Rey walked passed him.

"Ice the negativity," replied the captain. "Stay focused." He ventured deeper through the maze of vibrating pipes, peeking an exit between a pair of hulking conversion machines. "Damon, how we looking?"

Damon looked up from the controls and hunched his shoulders. "No good. There's Covenant tech running through everything. The original operating system has been overwritten. I don't know what controls what."

More Grunts began pushing through the corpse-barricade, squirming their way through with a resilience that the four men couldn't help but admire. It only took to get through to encourage the rest to follow. They had to move.

"Screw it. Let's go!" Rey led the way, weaving through the room and went out of the exit. When the last man was through, they shut the door. Jacen and Aiden barricaded the door with whatever they could find, ramming it with pallets of drums filled with waste that was decades old. It wouldn't hold for long, but it was enough to buy them enough time to find an exit strategy. Going back the way they came was out, which pissed Rey off more than anything. The plan was falling apart before it even began. Aiden's words came to him again, about being out of their depth. Maybe they were, but they were tied into a conflict without a slipknot to get them out. Fight or flight didn't apply to them now. It was either fight or die.

Rey reloaded his battle rifle. He'd made his choice.


	13. Chapter XIII

**XIII**

* * *

Kipp knew staring at the rear view mirrors every few seconds wouldn't yield any new results. He expected to see one of the stocky aliens appear in the closer-than-they-appear mirrors, staring at him with its beady eyes of malice. And then it would slap a plasma grenade to the M-18 and blow him to hell. He really didn't know what else to think. The man was an easy target, stationary and immobile. He'd done what he was asked: he drove the M-18 around to the receiving dock of the compound, trailer facing the sealed bay doors, and waited. A simple assignment, and yet his anxiety was through the roof. He preferred to be mobile, his sidearm in hand with a full view of his surroundings; but no… he was here in a cold truck with terrible blind spots.

"Where the hell are you, Noelle?"

The woman had been missing for the past ten minutes. She'd gotten out of the truck after four minutes—Kipp counted—and said she would survey the area. Survey the area. Maybe that was code for I'm not being isolated in this target-of-a-truck. He wanted to get out and look for her, but his legs made the decision for him by remaining like concrete. Rey had given him his orders. Until they had the Engineer in hand, he was to stay put. He wasn't going to screw that up, even though every mental inclination practically screamed at him to do the opposite.

The passenger door cracked open.

Kipp jumped for his sidearm, snatching it from his hip holster and aiming it at the door.

Noelle stood on the opposite side with her hands up. "Whoa, calm down!"

Kipp lowered the gun, holding his free hand over his beating chest. "Where were you? You can't just leave like that, y'know? We're in the middle of a hellstorm!"

"I'm aware." Noelle climbed up into the truck and shut the door. She laid her rifle across her lap and leaned forward to snap on the M18's dashboard computer. A spinning UNSC insignia dematerialized into a dozen cubes before an interface appeared. Noelle selected their location and accessed the motion sensors. Still nothing.

"There's an opening around the corner from the receiving doors. Looked like it was blasted open. I went inside to check on Astrid's theory."

Kipp looked at her with pursed lips behind his balaclava. There was no point of telling her just how dangerous and risky her actions was. He only shook his head like a disappointed parent and inquired. "And what did you find?"

"I heard some movement inside. They may be using the receiving bay as additional living quarters. Once we get the green light, blowing those doors will likely make them scatter to warmer areas of the compound. That should clear a path for the others to get through."

"Or it could lead a herd of freezing Grunts directly in their escape route," Kipp countered. "I wonder what's going on in there? Think they're okay?"

Noelle turned away from Kipp, staring out of the window without a destination for her eyes. She wondered the same thing. Had they found the Engineer? Were they fighting for their lives? The radio had been dead silent. Rey wanted to keep the channels clear of all non-essential chatter. If you didn't have anything raid-critical to say, then you kept to yourself and off the radio; and that included checking on the welfare of someone. Jacen wasn't an idiot, she knew. He wouldn't do anything to get himself killed.

Noelle turned aside from her reflection in the window. "I'm sure they're fine."

* * *

Jacen flipped a Grunt that had clawed its way on his back and threw it down to the floor. He put two rounds from his pistol into it's torso, swiftly spinning around gun down another on approach. The alien dropped, giving way for a trio to take its place. They were unarmed, angry and persistent. He backed into a maintenance closet, grabbing the first object he could get his hand around. A caliper was stuffed in a plastic container with a Chapman set that was missing most of its parts. He took the tool in his hand, throwing it at the closest Grunt among the three. It reeled back from the impact, largely unfazed.

A pair of strong hands latched onto Jacen's shoulders and pulled him back with enough force to give him whiplash. He was thrown to floor, seeing Damon rush around him with plasma pistol and shot an overcharged shot. The bolt of emerald plasma boiled away the Grunt's lower jaw and a portion of its neck before it fell forward. Jacen got up, draining his last three shots into the heavyset creatures, killing one and injuring another. Damon shoved his weight into the sliding door, pushing it close as it struggled to move across its track. A dozen more Grunts began to stampede toward them. Jacen dropped his sidearm and assisted Damon, pulling as the army corporal pushed. The Grunts reached the closing gap, their thick arms reaching and swiping. Jacen forced them back with a few kicks until Damon was able to shut the door.

"That's not going to hold," Damon struggled to say between breaths. The door shook behind him from the Grunts pounding on the metal, sending bone-shaking vibrations through his body. He caught his breath. "That's three rooms. All clear. Where's that friggin' floating squid?"

Jacen picked up his sidearm, reloading his last magazine. He was beginning to think the Engineer wasn't even here. It was probably somewhere else, tinkering with some crap that was more interesting. Or the Grunts may've sealed it away once they knew the humans were back. Hell, he didn't know. What he _did_ know was that ammo becoming more and more precious after every shot, and more disheartening when one of those shots missed. The Grunts were massing, flooding in from every direction it seemed. They had no weapons for the most part, but Jacen knew their strategy: soften them up first. Once they ran out of ammo, the Grunt soldiers would come in and finish them off. Smart little critters.

"We're wasting time," he said. "It's not here. Maybe Rey and Aiden have had better luck."

Damon shook his head. "It was bad idea to split up like we did. If they get overwhelmed, they won't have us to back them up."

"Back them up with what?" Jacen grunted. "At this point, we'll be throwing shell casings at the Grunts. We need weapons, _Covenant_ weapons."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Damon moved away from the door, tethering his empty M7 and swapped to his sidearm. "Let's keep moving."

Jacen prepared to say something, but Damon held up his finger as his earpiece came alive. It was silent as first, but he could hear slow, controlled breathing. "Rey?"

Still nothing.

He looked at Jacen with a shrug.

" _Damon."_

Damon knew he heard his name, but the voice was too low to catch anything else. He and Jacen moved to the next area, scoped it to make sure it was clear, and advanced through what appeared to be the server room. All the tech was decommissioned as some of the bundles of wiring had come loose and hung low like the moss from weeping willows.

" _Damon, come in."_

The corporal took a knee. "Captain?"

" _Did you find the prize?"_

Damon strained to hear the man. "That's a negative, and why are you whispering?"

" _Because I have three Grunt heavies right in front of us. We've located the oxygenator. Still no sign of our primary target, but that may change. I'll drop a NAV on our position, but keep a low profile. The heavy hitters are out now. We may be getting close."_

"Copy that," Damon nodded with an acute smirk. "We're headed your way." The radio went silent and looked at Jacen. "Time for the fireworks."

"Hell yeah," Jacen agreed.

It was a brief trek to reach the NAV marker Rey had dropped. The two men passed through two additional rooms connected to the servers and another containing secondary storage equipment for the ventilation wing before coming within ten meters of the NAV beacon. They slowed their progression, taking one step at a time—heel-toe, heel-toe.

They approached the next room that was mostly dark with an inkling of light. Jacen went inside first, pulling down his NV monocular. His heart catapulted into his throat when he saw Rey and Aiden crouched low underneath a workbench that extended from the wall. Rey held up his finger where his mouth would be and waved them over. Crawling on their hands and knees like babies, Jacen and Damon went over to Aiden and Rey and positioned themselves beside them.

Rey gestured to the open doorway. "Look."

A quick examination revealed what Rey had informed them beforehand: three Grunts, heavily armored in hulking bluish-emerald armor and armed with plasma rifles. They gathered around the oxygenator like children confused over a mysterious spectacle they'd never seen before. Chirps and growls were exchanged between them, growing in hostility until one shoved another.

"What happened?" Damon asked Rey.

"Sabotage at its finest," answered Rey. "We damaged it, cut a few lines. Still functional, but it sent out a warning alarm. Grunts came running to check it out."

"Safe to say they don't know how to fix it," Aiden added.

"D'you think they'll… ?" Damon left his words in the air.

Rey shrugged, finishing his incomplete thought. "One can hope."

The men sat in silence and watched. The shoved Grunt answered back in rebuke, grumbling before lumbering out of the room. For an agonizing ten minutes, the only action was observing the remaining Grunt heavies argue with one another as they examined the oxygenator. One of them held one of the severed wires in its hand, royally pissed. It stomped away, kicking over a container of liquid methane. The fluid spilled out over the floor, splashing out near the boots of Rey.

 _Not so much fun when your crap's broken, huh?_ Rey thought to himself. _Now you know how we feel._

In time, the Grunt that was shoved eventually returned. It waddled into the room, glancing over its shoulder for a moment before coming in to stand near the oxygenator. Rey could've sworn time slowed to a crawl when the Engineer floated into the room. His mouth parted open. There it was, the elusive beast they were here to capture. It was one thing to see it in a virtual hologram that DEV produced to reality. He couldn't have spoken if he _wanted_ to. _This_ was the alien that would possibly save their lives, or at least give them a glimmer of hope.

A chain of paralysis had suddenly struck the men at the sight of it. All the planning, all the fighting had led them to this solitary moment. There was no way in hell they were failing now. They were going to capture that Engineer and bring it home. No exceptions.

Rey shouldered his battle rifle. "Get ready. Wait until we have a clear shot on the heavies."

Jacen gripped his sidearm so tight that he felt he was going to crack the handle. The Engineer gracefully went over to the oxygenator, extending two of its six appendages to carefully lift the cut wires. Each tentacle split into a dozen needle-fine cilia, wrapping around the wire and eloquently mended them back together that was a show in itself.

The Grunts surrounded the Engineer—one in the center and two off to the side.

Rey tensed. They would need to be precise with their shots. _One_ erred shot and they risked injuring or—worst yet—killing the Engineer. It was now or never. The alien would finish the repairing the oxygenator at any moment. They has to act.

Rey gave the order. "Engage!"

The four men rolled out from underneath the workbench and stormed into the room. Rey fired first, sending a pair of three-round bursts into the Grunt on the far left. It dropped before it could react. Jacen was next. The middle Grunt spun around in shock, but Jacen was already practically on top of it. He aimed his sidearm at point blank range and squeeze off three shots into its head and throat. Lastly, Damon and Aiden team shot the last Grunt heavy standing. It toppled over, its plasma rifle falling out of its lifeless hand.

"Clear!" Damon announced.

"Let's work fast, people!" Rey said. He unslung his pack and unzipped it, carefully extracting the IED Kipp had rigged up.

The Engineer turned and looked over the dead bodies of the Grunts and the human visitors with little interest. It went back to the oxygenator and reached out another tentacle to repair the second cut wire.

Rey moved around it, peeling off the adhesive on the back of the IED and placed it on the base of the oxygenator. The Engineer suddenly chirped, pulling back from the severed wire and angled its elongated neck down at the bomb. With a gentle push, it moved Rey back and began tinkering with the bomb.

"No!" Rey jumped between the IED and the Engineer, easing the alien away from it. It's body felt peculiar to the touch, hanging somewhere between a hard and soft material. The alien didn't fight back, but simply flexed an ounce of its strength and lifted Rey up and gently placed him out of the way and went back to investigate the strange object placed on its project.

"Aiden!" Rey shouted.

"You got it." Aiden went through his own rucksack and fished out Kipp's modified bubble shield. He didn't know exactly how the device would operate, but he trusted Kipp knew what he was talking about. He ran over and placed the canister under the Engineer and hit the activation switch before stepping back.

In that instant, a shimmering sphere of gold, transparent light with hexagon imprints enveloped the Engineer. The alien shrieked, tentacles flailing. It quickly regained its composure and reached out to touch the interior, only to be met with resistance.

Damon went up to the bubble and placed his hand where the Engineer's tentacle was touching. His hand didn't phase through, even when he applied a modest amount of pressure. "Kipp's a friggin' genius."

"We can stroke that nerd's ego later," Rey barked. "For now, let's get it out of here! Pearce and Aiden, you're on bubble control. Damon, we're support. I'm setting the charge for three minutes. Move!"

Jacen and Aiden got on either side of the bubble pushed it toward and out of the open doorway. The Engineer bobbled inside, bouncing against the interior as it was being transported. Rey and Damon relieved the dead Grunts of their plasma rifles and went out into the hall, one in front and the other behind the bubble.

Rey jumped on the radio. "Bravo Team, get in position! We've got the prize and we're heading out now!"

" _You're joking?"_ Aaron replied after a twenty second delay. _"Holy hell, you actually found the thing. Copy that. Moving!"_

" _Roger that,"_ Noelle came in, her voice stricken with shock and disbelief. _"Moving into position. Give me the green light and I'll light this place up!"_

"Not yet," Rey reasoned. "Wait until we're closer. I'll let you know."

" _I can't believe this might actually work,"_ Kipp added.

Rey laughed. "Stay alert. We're not out of the woods yet."


	14. Chapter XIV

**XIV**

* * *

Jacen pushed the Engineer into an empty room, himself diving underneath a swarm of plasma bolts that singed the fringes of his suit. He slid across the floor, the far wall halting his progress as the shielded Engineer bounced harmlessly around the room. A Grunt charged into the room after him, plasma pistol charged to fire with a high-pitched war cry. Aiden caught it's blindside, kicking it across the face. The fired plasma shot splashed above Jacen's head, the droplets chewing through his suit like acid. He quivered from the burning sensation that pricked his lower neck and back.

Aiden slid over to him, pulling him to his feet and slapping his chest twice. "Shake it off, brother. Let's go!"

The two men guided the Engineer to the room's exit, plasma and lead crisscrossing through the lanes. Jacen took a knee and peeked around the door frame: a cluster of Grunt soldiers were down at the end on the left, firing above and around their dead allies. Down the opposite end was Rey and Damon, firing with nothing but their sidearms. Damon ceased fire for a moment, holding up his hand to Jacen and waving it. Jacen got the point and stayed put.

Aiden grabbed Jacen's shoulder. "I've got an idea. Stay close to me!"

Jacen nodded and followed suit as Aiden went for the Engineer that was unsettling calm inside the shield. Gingerly, Aiden eased the Engineer out into the hall with Jacen practically on his hip. The Grunts screamed to one another, slapping and hitting one another to stop firing. In that moment, the gunfire exchange ceased. A single Grunt heavy muscled its way through its brethren, kicking aside the slain and injured. It's custom burgundy armor was covered in scuffs, scratches, and plasma burns. A lieutenant, Rey guessed, probably second-in-command to the Unggoy commander Jacen and Noelle killed.

Crap.

The Grunt lieutenant took a few steps forward, its milky orange eyes incredibly disturbing. " _No_ … _escape."_

Rey stood up from around the corner and walked into view. "So, you _can_ talk?"

The lieutenant bared its teeth, pointing at Rey with a snarl. "Huragok… _ours! Leave. Or. Die."_

Rey looked down at his wrist TACPAD, the timer to the IED ticking down from ten seconds. He returned the lieutenant's equally hardened glare and casually shrugged. "Not interested."

The IED detonated.

A reverberating shockwave flowed through the entire compound, rattling the four men to their bones. A distance _boom_ echoed from engineering, shaking the light fixtures and causing some of them to burst and wink off. The methane-rich air, suddenly, ignited. A swirling typhoon of fire rushed through the entire hall, smothering everything in intense heat and blinding light. The men dropped to the floor as the flames roiled over them as it simultaneously curled around the Engineer's bubble shield.

When the flames died down, Rey got to his feet and surveyed the damage: the walls were scorched and white smoke clouded his vision. The Grunts were dazed and disoriented, their hard exoskeleton scorched and sizzling. The lieutenant uncovered its head, standing with reddened skin. It exhaled heavily, snatching its carbine from its back and screamed aloud.

Rey aimed his reloaded revolver and aimed it at the Grunt lieutenant. "Screw you, buddy."

No sooner than Rey pulled the trigger, the stout little alien raised its left forearm and snapped on an energy shield and absorbed the high-caliber shots.

Damon's brows went up. "That's new."

"Since when did they get Jackal tech?" Aiden spat.

"Don't know, don't care," Rey answered. "Let's get out of here. Move!"

They rounded the corner with the Engineer in tow and hurried their way through the compound to the receiving docks, hotly pursued by the Grunts. The long corridors felt endless in length, open and offered little to no cover. With precise shots, the Grunts could easily pick one of them off. But they kept running, kept pushing and didn't _dare_ look back. Plasma whizzed by them, boiling away the surface of everything they struck. One bolt came to close that Jacen felt the heat against his hip as it went by to hit a pair of double doors ahead of him. They kept their legs churning, ramming through the doors and into the receiving staging area.

Rey swiftly doubled back and shut the doors the moment the Engineer was pulled through as Damon ran over to the stockpile of aged wrapped crates sitting atop wooden pallets. He yanked a pallet jack from the far right corner, practically slamming the forks into one of the pallets and began pumping furiously. When the crate was lifted high enough, he circled it around and pushed the four hundred pound crate filled with God-knows-what, wedged it against the left door. He removed the pallet jack and repeated the process until both doors were firmly blocked.

"Beyond this area should be the docks," Rey deduced. "Bravo Team will be waiting for us."

"Yeah, but we've got a problem," Jacen pointed out.

 _Now what?_ Rey groaned within himself.

The bubble shield around the Engineer began to decay, dissolving like a sugar in water. It started from the bottom and gradually worked its away up until it suddenly winked off and released the Engineer. The eel-like alien emitted a barely audible noise as it quivered, uncurling its appendages. It briefly swept its six black eyes across the humans and gingerly began to float away.

"Christ," spat Rey. "The _one_ time we needed Kipp to be wrong."

"He said it would only last just under three minutes," Damon reminded him.

Rey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Just restrain it!"

"Restrain it with what?" Aiden shrugged. "That bubble was all we had."

The double doors shook, collecting their undivided attention. That was quick. The Grunts were already outside of the door. Time was running out, and it didn't help that the bubble shield decayed. That left the Engineer exposed to gunfire. They couldn't protect it if something happened. The only hope they had was that the Grunt's would restrain themselves from opening fire around their precious Huragok. That was a thin hope.

Rey glanced down at his battle rifle, seeing the tether swing below it. He unclasped it from the body of the rifle and handed it to Jacen. "Remove your tethers. Give 'em to me. Hurry up!"

The men did just so, collecting together four tethers in total. Rey took them in his hands and went over to the Engineer that regarded him with minimal interest before turning to float away. He caught up with the alien, connecting two of the tethers and looping it around the Engineer's torso.

Rey looked into the creature's multiple eyes and spoke in a soft, innocent tone. "We need you to come with us. We're not going to hurt you. We need your help."

The Engineer held eye contact for a few moments, emitting a few elongated chirps before looking away. It ran its tentacles across the tether, the tiny cilia investigating the very fibers in its stitching. Ultimately, it relaxed as if it understood Rey, chirping twice.

Once it was snug around its body, Rey knotted the ends of the remaining two tethers within the loop around it until the straps, when held out, resembled a Y-shape. He turned and held out the tether ends to Jacen and Aiden. "Clip this to yourselves. When the fighting starts, get it the hell out of the line of fire.."

Jacen and Aiden took the tethers from Rey with mild surprise, affixing them to their chest rigs. The Engineer floated behind them like a balloon, being pulled along wherever they moved. There was an acute resistance given off from the floating squid, but it yielded when guided. It was difficult to comprehend the alien's lackadaisical attitude toward everything. Did it _really_ not care about anything beyond repairing tech?

"Nice boyscout trick," Aiden commented.

"You learn a few things when you grow up with three sadistic sisters," Rey grunted, eying Damon walking into a room and out of sight.

The corporal went into the small receiving office, looking for anything of use. Their way was blocked by a pair a single sealed door. It was wide, thick and heavy. There was no telling if there was power running to it, but it would lead them directly to the docks and out to Bravo Team. From there, they would load the Engineer into the M18 and get back to camp and end the nightmare. There had to be a button or something that linked to the door. How else did the people here receive their payloads?

He searched atop the metal desk, sweeping aside old papers, binders, and dead hand held computers. Bending low, he ran his hand along the underside of the desk until a dull red light went across his fingers. He moved his hand back where the light appear and took a better look. It was a basic switch that resembled an inverted doorbell. He pressed it. Nothing happened. Pressed it again. No response.

Damon backed out from the office, sticking his head out of the doorway. "Hey, does anything happen out there when I press this button? I think I found the switch that opens the door."

The men snapped to attention and immediately shifted their eyes to the door.

"Give it a push," Jacen spoke. "We're watching it."

"All right." Damon went back into the office and hit the depressor.

"Yeah," Jacen replied in a raised tone. "There, above the door. A light came on when you hit it."

"Red?" Damon answered back.

Jacen nodded. "Yeah."

"That means we need power to open it," Damon concluded. He walked out of the office and searched along the west wall where the door was positioned. The Grunts pounded on the blocked door, each attempt more forceful than the last. They had to pick up the pace. Damon was relieved when he caught sight of a sealed grey panel tucked away within a shallow square depression in the wall with rounded edges.

Finally, something was going right.

He flipped a small lever and the panel door popped open. The first thing that caught his attention was a bright red light that made him wince. He examined the multiple wires linking to the multitude of breakers and switches. It was a bit old fashioned from what he'd been accustomed to. From what he could see, some of the wires were burned, frayed, or severed altogether. An overload, it seemed. He waved over to Jacen and Aiden.

"Bring the Engineer over."

They walked over and Damon presented the exposed box to the alien. He pointed at the breakers and then the door. "I don't know if you understand me, but we need to open that door."

The Engineer looked into the breaker box, glanced at the door, and then back at Damon.

"Yes, the door," the corporal emphasized. He headed back into the office as the alien went to work. "Let me know when its finished."

It was like watching a magician perform, his tricks effortlessly displaying his talents. With every graceful move of the alien's tentacles, the breaker box was being restored. Wires were reconnected, mended, and rearranged; breakers that were once essential were tossed on the floor and replaced with another. A wire was pulled out, its casing tender sliced open to reach the twisted copper inside. A dozen cilia integrated within the copper and pecked the tips before the wire was reconstructed and placed back into a breaker with a spark.

In the office, the red light on Damon's fingertips turned green. "Hell yeah! We're in business." Damon hit the switch without another thought and raced out of the office.

A green light flashed three times above the door, accompanied with warning alarm that wailed four times. The door gradually parted open to a tunnel about the width of a Pelican that extended twenty-five or so meters until it ended and angled left.

Rey stood in the doorway, holding his battle rifle in the crook of his arm. "Good job, people." He keyed his radio. "Bravo Team, we're almost out. Moving to the docks now. Give me your status."

" _We're standing by, Captain,"_ Aaron came in. _"It's all clear right now."_

"Good. Noelle, are you in position?"

" _Positioned and ready,"_ she confirmed. _"Be advised that you may have enemy contacts on the docks."_

"That's why you're there, Bravo-Three. They'll scatter like roaches when the atmosphere hits them."

The blocked door blew open in a sapphire explosion.

"Alpha-One out! We've got contact!" Rey cut the line, motioned to Jacen and Aiden. "Get through the door. Don't stop until you reach the docks!"

The Grunts flowed through the door like a busted dam, all armed and hotter than the sun's core. Damon and Rey backed into the hall as they opened fire, using the fringes of the doors as cover. Suicide Grunts broke free from the horde and charged them, screaming and holding out their primed grenades out in front of them. Rey popped one between the eyes and dropped it. The grenades detonated, taking a dozen allies with them.

Damon unfastened his one and only grenade and chucked it into the Grunt mass. "Get wrecked, punks!"

The blast sent limbs flying, detonated Kamikaze Grunts prematurely, and injured scores more. Rey and Damon turned to run at full sprint. They turned the corner hard, slammed into the wall but kept running until they reached Aiden and Jacen at the end who were waiting for them.

"Keep going," Rey called out to them. "Don't wait for us."

He didn't have to say another word. Jacen and Aiden hauled the Engineer behind them, moving as rapidly as they could manage. An open door was in front of them, a clear opening to the docks. The closer they approached, though, the temperature steadily continued to rise along with the methane levels. It was more concentrated, as if it was primarily pumped into the specific area. They didn't give it any attention. No time. Kept running. They broke the threshold of the doorway and practically slid into the docks. Their stomachs, simultaneously, dropped, and they froze.

Rey and Damon closed to gap and caught up with them. It puzzled the captain as to why they were just standing there. He _clearly_ told them not to stop. What the hell? They had reached the Promised Land, the end of this hellish raid. All that was left was to _get the hell out._

Rey ran up to Jacen, grabbing him. "Keep moving! They're right behind us."

But Jacen was oblivious to his words. His focus remained on what was in front of him.

Damon entered the docks, nearly colliding with the others. 'Yo, what's with the hold up—"

—Damon's words evaporated when his eyes connected with what everyone else was staring at. The docks was packed with Grunts. His mouth went dry. There had to be hundreds of them, an estimate bordering on what Astrid surmised. All at once, the Grunts seemed to turn and stare at them: male, female, and youth. A mass so piled together that the heat and methane levels were through the roof. None of them moved or made a sound.

The men exchanged looks between one another.

Rey screamed into his radio. "Noelle, blow it. NOW!"


	15. Chapter XV

**XV**

* * *

Noelle was out of the M18 before her name was fully out of Rey's mouth. She shouldered the SPNKr and sprinted around to the receiving doors with Aaron on her heels. He took up position ten yards to her right, DMR aimed directly at the door. Noelle took a knee, flipping out the holographic sight and lining up her shot. She didn't know what to expect when she pulled the trigger. Would a tidal wave of Grunts flood out to meet them or would the blast potentially injure their allies inside? Anything was possible. She pushed the thoughts into the back of her mind and squeezed the trigger.

The single rocket coughed from the SPNKr, a cloud of exhaust engulfing Noelle. It slammed into the receiving door, blasting through the thin titanium-A metal with ease. Red-orange flames flared up, quickly snuffed out by the frigid atmosphere.

Noelle felt the wave of heat that dissipated, hunching her shoulders as she turned aside from the explosion. When the smoke eventually cleared, she and Aaron saw the whole picture: Grunts, hundreds of them, were scrambled for their lives. Scores of them lay dead from the blast, strewn about across the floor in nauseating pieces. The Grunts that weren't scrambling for the exits had curled up on the floor, overtaken by the freezing atmosphere that smothered them. And there, in the rear of the receiving bay, stood Jacen, Rey, Aiden, and Damon with Engineer.

It was maddening: hundreds of Grunts stampeded out of the bay, clambering over one another in a frenzy to escape. A rushing river it resembled, loud and untamed. Some were trampled underfoot, killed or injured in the chaos. They funneled through the angled hall where the four men had come from, running directly into the squad of armed Grunts that were in pursuit.

Rey saw their opportunity: the herd of Grunts began to thin out, the remaining left dead or dying on the floor. He shouldered his battle rifle, pointed forward. "Let's move!"

He exploded into a sprint, leading the charge through the maze of Grunts underneath his boots. The exit was so close, their salvation was so close. They just needed to load the Engineer into the M18 and it was mission accomplished. The attacking Grunts were held back from the surging crowd of panicked aliens, a stroke of good luck that Rey could say he didn't expect. It didn't matter. He'd take it where he could get it.

Damon was right behind him, his pace slowed to keep Jacen and Aiden within sight. They pulled the Engineer along behind them, pushing and shoving aside the Gas-suckers that ran past them. One of them fell forward from the surge, rolling into Damon's legs. The corporal hit the ground hard, feeling one of his molars loosen. He groaned as the Grunt's body beside him convulsed as ice crystals began to form across it's body. Hands reached down and grabbed him, snatching him upright and shoving him forward. He stumbled forward, catching his fall before continuing after Rey.

In the rear, Aiden and Jacen kept up their pace. The captain was practically at the blown open bay door, clearing the way for them. The docks were beginning to clear, with most of the Grunts either squeezing through the hall behind them or left dead on the floor. It wasn't until Jacen was lying flat on his back that he realized he'd been run over by one of the panicking aliens. Aiden was standing a ways from him, gunning down a Grunt at point-blank range that was clawing at him. Jacen scrambled to his feet, no longer feeling the gentle tug from the Engineer around his torso. The impact had severed the tether between himself and the prize. He held the frayed, broken tether in his hand and cursed.

"I'm loose!" he shouted out to no one in particular. "I can it tie back. Aiden, get over here!"

Aiden pulled the tether taut, denying the Engineer enough slack to move more freely. He imagined if the creature _wanted to_ that it could easily slice though the fabric and go on its way. _Why_ it didn't was a question Aiden didn't care to answer. It's uncanny obedience to the whole situation was over his head. He went over to Jacen, handing the sliced end to him.

Jacen took the two ends, rapidly trying his best to form a double fisherman knot amidst shaking hands. He missed a loop and cursed at himself. There wasn't time for mistakes now. He needed to get the knot secured and move before—

—A sensation like a branding iron sizzled against his upper right shoulder. Jacen went to his knees with a scream, having a section of his tactical vest boiled away down to the gel layer of his undersuit. He managed to crawl to Aiden's feet, turning his head around to mark the culprit. It was their old buddy, their adversary: the burgundy-armored Grunt. It had managed to muscle its way from the fleeing river of its own species, charging its plasma pistol for another shot. Aiden went to fire, only to hear the unsettling _click—_ empty. He threw the sidearm away, swaying the Engineer to the side as the overcharged plasma bolt was fired. It sizzled past him, splashing somewhere behind him.

Jacen struggled for his gun, his vision clouded from the shooting pain in his shoulders. He guessed it must've been first and second degree burns, but he couldn't worry about that now. Before he could slip his fingers around the sidearm, the Grunt lieutenant was on top of him. It viciously punched him in his mid-section, just underneath the ribs. As if weighed as much as a feather, the Grunt tossed Jacen aside and charged for Aiden. It leapt up, careening into Aiden's long legs and buckled him. Once brought down to its level, the Grunt took a strong swipe for the human's head. Aiden evaded left, shoving the alien away before kicking it in its back.

"Get moving, mate!" Aiden barked at Jacen. "We're running for it."

Jacen struggled to his feet as Damon and Rey began running over. More armed Grunts squeezed out of the crowd, opening fire almost immediately. Damon pushed Rey to the floor as pink needles detonated around him. Shrapnel spiraled around his left thigh, just above the knee. He hit the floor beside Rey, draining his magazine cartridge into the Grunt pair that entered into the fray. They squealed and scurried to what limited cover they could find as Damon gave a passing glance to his wound. Fragments from the needler shard had broken off in his leg, pass his armor, and into his skin. The bleeding to slow, for now. He got up, pulling Rey upright along the way.

Aiden made his way to them, running at an angle to compensate for the Engineer tugging at the one side of his body. He turned around to see the Grunt lieutenant aggressively on his heels. It snarled and lunged at him, the two dropping to the floor in a vicious brawl. Aiden kicked and punched, fending off the frantic alien lieutenant the best he could. The lieutenant clawed at him, wrenching its claws into Aiden's skin between punches.

Rey charged into the Grunt with his shoulder, tearing it free from Aiden. He slammed the lieutenant in its face with punch after punch; left and right, another right and then a left. "Go!" he barked between blows. "Get moving. I'll catch up."

"Let's go, brother!" Damon pulled Aiden up, his wound stinging and tearing open. He ignored it, moving around behind the Engineer and pushed it after Aiden. "Sorry about this, but you're floating a little slow."

Jacen strafed left, moving in reverse beside Aiden and the Engineer, firing warning shots to the combative Grunts to discourage their progress. Seemingly oblivious to the incoming gunfire, the little aliens kept advancing. A dozen of them seemed to appear all at once, launching themselves out of the retreating mass crowd. Jacen concentrated his shots, bring his right hand up to steady the gun. He felt his shoulder tear, the blistered skin crackling. Two shots dropped a single Grunt, another took its place. There was just too many of them, the unarmed shielding the armed as they grew closer.

A Grunt suddenly dropped from a headshot. Another went down from a round to the throat, and then two more from cranial excavation. Jacen turned around. Aaron, accompanied by Noelle, entered into the bay with guns blazing. Aaron took a knee with the DMR, picking off the Grunts one by one. Noelle came up beside him, shouldering her assault rifle and pulse firing into the group until they lost coordination and scrambled.

She fired the rest of her magazine, dumped it, and reloaded before running up beside Jacen. "You owe me one."

Jacen holstered his empty pistol and took Noelle's. "Add it to the list." He glared over at Rey. The captain was still wrestling with the Grunt lieutenant, trading blows and fighting to the death. He turned away and touched Noelle's shoulder. "Make sure they make it to the M18. Tell Kipp we're ready to roll."

Noelle squeezed Jacen's forearm. "Hell no! You get the captain; I'll lay down some suppressing fire."

Jacen didn't want to argue. There wasn't enough time and he was in too much pain. He unsheathed his knife and made his way over to Rey, running low underneath the swarm of plasma bolts, needler shards, and gunfire from Noelle and Aaron.

Rey took a shot to the face, rattling his teeth and feeling as if his brain was a pinball. He felt blood slide from his nose and into his mouth. The Grunt lieutenant drove its fist into Rey's gut, the force lifting the captain a few inches off the floor. Rey nearly vomited, his belly rearranged by the punch. The Grunt stood over him, grabbing him by the back of his head and repeatedly slammed him into the floor.

Jacen flipped the knife's blade forward, driving it into the lieutenant's mid-section as he ran over. The Grunt let out a high-pitched yelp. Jacen ripped out the knife covered in blood and stabbed the alien again and again. The lieutenant coughed up blood from behind its mask, grabbing Jacen and shoving him away before being stabbed again. It staggered away from the two of them, bleeding and out of breath. Two shots rang out from the DMR behind them, one clipping the lieutenant's shoulder and the next ripping through its chest. The Grunt leader collapsed to the floor, motionless.

"Time to go," Jacen said. He extended a hand to the captain.

Rey took his hand, grimacing as he stood. He and Jacen made a break for the exit as Noelle and Aaron followed suit with suppressing fire. _Just a little closer_ , Rey pushed himself. He saw Damon and Aiden already at the exit, preparing the load the Engineer into the M18's rear trailer. All the anguish, the convincing, the seemingly endless hours of planning; it was all falling into place.

A future. They just might have a future.

A plasma grenade was hurled at them, arching high and landing just meters from Noelle and Aiden. It donated, flinging Noelle's body into Aaron's and sent their them tumbling across the floor. She hit the floor hard, her head smacking into the concrete. Aaron fought to remain conscious as Noelle's motionless body was strewn across his lap.

"Yo, Sanchez..." Aaron's speech was slurred, his head swimming in limbo. He shook her body. "Sanchez." He couldn't move her, too weak and dazed.

"Noelle!" Jacen raced over, sliding on the floor next to them. He lifted her body up from stop Aaron's legs and positioned her head in the crook of his arm. "Noelle, do you hear me? Wake up!"

Damon witnessed the spectacle from outside, cursing at himself. They were so close. He left Aiden and pointed to the M18. "Get the Engineer in the truck. Move!" He ran into the fray, nearly being struck by a plasma bolt himself. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled over to Aaron and snaked his hands underneath the dazed man's armpits. "I'm getting you outta here. Can you walk?"

"I…I think so," Aaron replied. "I don't… what happened?"

"I'll take that as a no," Damon grunted, dragging him out. "Pearce, get off your a** and let's go! We'll assess her when we get back."

Jacen snapped to attention, shielding Noelle's body as another grenade went off nearby. Debris showered over him with intense heat from the ionized blast. He picked her up, hooking his arms behind her back and knees and proceeded to carry her to the exit Damon had already pulled Aaron through. Rey brought up the rear, shooting aimlessly behind him.

The Grunt lieutenant took in a sudden breath, gargling blood and fighting to breath. In a pool of its own blood, it slowly sat up with the human intruders in view. They began to ease the Huragok out the buildings, moving toward what appeared to be a human vehicle of some sort. The lieutenant growled, rearing up on its dying feet and snatching a pair of plasma grenades from its belt. With a scream, it charged forward with fleeting strength and reckless abandonment, leaving bloody footprints in its wake.

Rey had just dropped down outside the loading bay when he heard the scream. He turned and marked the approaching the lieutenant running toward them with its allies behind it. "You just don't quit, do ya?" Rey finished opening up the M18's trailer as Aiden disconnected the tether from himself and the Engineer. "Get it inside and lock it up."

He drew his revolver, loading the last eight rounds into the chamber. By the time he prepared to fire, the first Grunt was already on him. It jumped out of the destroyed bay door at Rey, missing as the captain sidestepped. Rey swung around and shot the alien in the back, moved up, and fired around two rounds to keep the rest back.

"Hurry it up, people!" Rey shouted.

Jacen and Damon loaded Noelle and Aaron into the cab of the M18, securing them in the backseat before jumping out to help Aiden. Jacen took Noelle's assault rifle, running around to the rear of the trailer to see Rey hunkered down behind the trailer's open door for cover. He fired at the Grunts standing on the edge of the loading bay, killing one and injuring another.

Damon came up around from the other side, moving beside Aiden to coax the Engineer inside the trailer. The alien seemed to investigate the architecture of the truck, oblivious to the hell around them. Damon ultimately jumped up into the trailer, grabbing the Engineer from the front and attempted to pull it inside. His eyes became saucers when the saw the Grunt lieutenant stumbling toward them with two primed plasma grenades in its hands.

It dove out of the docking bay, falling on the ground underneath the Engineer and Aiden with a boisterous laugh.

"Aiden, get clear..."

The grenades went off, engulfing Aiden and the Engineer in cerulean flames! Jacen and Rey were blown back as Damon was flung back further into the trailer. He hit the back of the metal with a _clang_ and fell face forward. Rey rolled over on his back, the air snatched out of his lungs. He sat up, struggling to see through his cracked NV monocular; but what he was able to see was enough to turn his stomach. The mangled body of the Engineer was lying on the ground, luminous blood pouring out from its body. But worse yet, the body was Aiden was next to it.

Jacen groaned, lifting his head up from the dirt and turned around to see what Rey was still trying to process. "What the hell…?"

"We gotta go," Rey said, his tone so low that Jacen could barely hear him.

Jacen wasn't ready. Aiden's body was there, lifeless and unmoving. They couldn't just leave him there; but the possibility of reclaiming his body wasn't ideal. More Grunts were undoubtedly coming and they needed to leave. He got up and staggered around to the back of the M18, its trailer doors scorched and mangled from the explosion. He jumped into the trailer, stepping over the remnants of the Engineer's body. Aiden's body was to the far left. He forced himself to keep moving, finding Damon trying to get up.

"Don't move. We're getting out of here."

Rey poked his head in the trailer. "Hang on to something. We're moving out!" He ran around to the cab and jumped inside, slamming the door shut. "Kipp, go! Drive!"

"Wait, where is everyone else?" Kipp asked.

"Jacen and Damon are in the trailer. Drive!" Rey barked.

Kipp put the M18 into gear. "Aiden… what about Aiden?"

Incensed, Rey grabbed Kipp by his collar and pulled his close. "Aiden is _dead_ , the Engineer is _dead_! Mission is scrubbed. Now, DRIVE!"

Kipp leveled his foot on the gas. The M18 kicked, jerking forward before gaining traction on the soil and accelerated forward. Rey looked in the side-mirror, glaring at the burning Grunt compound as it reduced in size until it was no longer in view. He averted his eyes away and fell silent.


	16. Chapter XVI

**XVI**

* * *

If silence had a physical form, Jacen imagined it would resemble thick obsidian clouds of fog that never lifted. It remained groundside, impenetrable and unyielding. No one said anything. What was there to say? They'd failed raids before, but it was always easier to retreat and try again another day. That simply wasn't the case now. _This_ time they'd left something behind. A few things to be exact—Aiden and hope. There hadn't been a death in a year, but that didn't remove the sting. Jacen had a feeling the sting went beyond Aiden, however.

He glanced down at Noelle's head in his lap. She was conscious, at least. Her pulse was steady, although Jacen felt it fade in and out. He wouldn't know the extent of her condition until Dr. Mathinson examined her, but he was sure _all_ of them would be visiting the good doctor. Aaron was sitting on Jacen's left, his head leaning against the padded interior of the cab. With everyone donned in their shades and thermal gear, it was impossible to see what their eyes could say.

Damon was on the right, shifting in his seat with Noelle's legs across him. He was sure he'd sustained some sort of injury in his back. The pain was unrelenting, coupled with the open wound just above his right knee. He was pissed, more than he'd been in some time. At this point, he felt he would snap at the smallest transgression. He hated that they agreed to this raid; he hated that he wasn't able to mark that Grunt before it blew both Aiden and the Engineer away. Aiden. Christ. He was one of the good ones, another man swept away in this pestilential war. If he'd just been fast enough, maybe he could've saved him. The probability was slim. In all his angst, though, he figured his emotions weren't even in the same realm as Rey.

The captain was practically mute, so silent that you wouldn't even know he was in the truck until you saw him. Damon could feel the crushing weight on the man's shoulders. The loss of Aiden, the loss of the Engineer, would be fresh in his mind for weeks to come—perhaps months. What was he thinking about? How was he processing it? Maybe it hadn't hit him yet. It had certainly hit Damon, and right away. The losses had exceeded the scope of words to express it. Neither Aiden or the Engineer were replaceable. Good men nowadays weren't easy to find; and an alien with the capacity to manipulate technology, to turn the obsolete into the new was _certainly_ hard to find. They were dead. It was a difficult truth to accept, but that was their reality. There was no ignoring it now.

In a few hours' time, Kipp steered the M18 up to the camp's gates and waited for the lookouts to come down from their watchtowers to open them. They squeaked open and the truck roared on through, pulling into the vehicle garage. The lookouts shut the gates and secured them before returning to their posts. Kipp cut the engine to the M18, patiently waiting until the garage vented the Titan atmosphere and replenished it with breathable air and heat. When the levels read 100%, he removed his breathing apparatus and thermal gear around his head with an exhale.

Still, no one spoke.

Rey opened the door and stepped out, removing his gear. The others followed his lead and disembarked, their movements slow and cautions. They were coated in bruises, cuts with dried blood over them, minor burns, and sheer exhaustion. Jacen helped Noelle out of the M18, hooking her arm around the back of his neck to support her. He removed her gear, exposing a bloody nose, black rings around her eyes, and a laceration at the base of her head. She swept a few strains of sweaty hair from her face and glanced up at him before looking with downcast eyes. Jacen didn't need her to say anything; he felt it, and it hurt.

Before they entered into back into the main buildings, Rey halted his progress with a foot on the steps leading forward. His head went low with an exhale. He gripped the handrail, so tight that the fabric in his gloves groaned against the metal. Turning around, he faced the five individuals before him. There was an uneasiness in their eyes. If they were expecting him to have some sort of outburst, they would have to temper their expectations. He didn't have the energy.

"Listen, … before we head inside, we need to address a few things. For starters, _no one_ outside of Astrid and DEV can know what happened." Rey looked into their faces, some of which were marked with mild confusion or no outward expression altogether. He needed them to understand. "We embarked on a mission with the goal of saving, not only our lives, but the lives of everyone in this camp. We failed." He pointed over his shoulder. "But the people in there can't know that. If they knew what we tried to accomplish here and its aftermath, they would lose any hope that they've held on to. For that reason, they can _never_ know, and I'm counting on you to uphold that. Please. As far as their concerned, we carried another raid that resulted in the death… in the death of one of our friends."

The group shifted their feet. They didn't have an immediate response. In a way, he was right. Some of the survivors in the camp had lost much already—friends, family, homes, worlds. To know that a potential life-saving raid that would've possibly prolonged their futures failed would evaporate any reason to remain optimistic. No hope bred fear, restlessness, violence, and so much more that they just didn't have the resources to handle. On the other hand, maybe they had a right to know. It was their lives, their future. They didn't know. There was no right answer at this point.

"This was a difficult mission," Rey continued. "We knew what was at stake and… it didn't work out the way we wanted it to." He looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Casualties are hard. All we can carry on with Aiden in our memories and not tarnish it. He would want us to keep fighting." Rey took in a deep breath before speaking again. "And if there's anything you want to say to me, now's the time."

If Rey expected a barrage of insults and speech laced with repressed anger and resentment, it never came. It surprised him. In a sense, he _wanted_ to hear it. He wanted them to shout at him, to tell him that this was a horrible idea that cost of the life of a good man and resources they didn't have to spare. They would die on this moon and it was his fault. But no such accusations were hurled in his direction, only tired eyes and visible discomfort.

"I don't have cross words for you, Rey," Aaron said. "We tried, okay. We really did, but… we got outmatched. Am I pissed? Yeah. We lost a good man today; and worst yet, it may've been prevented." Aaron took a breath and spat blood-infused spit on the floor before pointing at his right temple. "In my head, it wouldn't have mattered if we planned for everything or not. War is chaotic and unpredictable. We all know that. It's a tough deal, but we gotta move forward."

Kipp shook his head. "And how do you expect us to do _that?_ Let's address the elephant in the room here." Kipp waved his hand back and forth, displaying two fingers. "We have two years! Two years to figure something out or we're dead. Move forward? We'll be lucky to get back to square one."

"Yo, let's take it down a notch!" Damon mediated. "We know the situation, Kipp. What I think Aaron was trying to say is that we can't give up. We all just need to step back and then reassess. We're all on edge, disappointed, and hurt. Let's lick our wounds, take our lumps, and get it together. Like the captain said, we can't bring this attitude into the camp."

Aaron twisted his mouth and folded his arms. "So you expect us to be all smiles? Sorry, that's not gonna happen."

"You know what I mean," Damon replied.

"Then we can agree to talk about this later." Jacen walked past them with Noelle on his side. "I need to get her to medical. We could all use some rest. I know I do."

Jacen adjusted his grip on Noelle and walked up the steps. He regarded Rey with a subtle nod and exited the garage. The four of them left inside remained silent for a moment. It appeared the looming question of 'what's next?' was still fresh in their minds. However, they wouldn't—couldn't—answer that question now. Rest and time is what they needed now. To process anything even remotely coherent was borderline impossible.

One by one, they disbanded, filing out of the garage until only Rey was left alone. He stared out into the garage, not targeting anything in particular. His mind was soup, disconnected and unable to find a mental handhold. The urge to erupt was boiling inside of him, an almost primal rage hidden deep inside of him that required a trigger. _This_ was his trigger. But the anger never came, not in the method he expected. All he felt was pain and fatigue.

"Captain."

The all-too familiar voice softly came through the garage speakers.

Rey closed his eyes. "Were you listening the entire time?"

"It wasn't my initial intention," DEV confessed. "The sensors detected your arrival and notified me. I apologize for the intrusion."

"It's fine." Rey opened his eyes. "You had to know sooner or later. Does Astrid know?"

"At this time, no. I presume you want to inform her of the details. It's not my place." The AI paused, leaving Rey to listen to the gentle hum of the A/C. "Captain, a recommendation?"

"Not now, DEV," Rey sighed. "Not now."

* * *

Noelle wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but guessing from the lethargy of her body, she imagined it was a while. The last thing she remembered was being carried through the cold halls of the camp, coming through the doors of the clinic and seeing the blurry faces of the aids and other personnel. She drew a blank after that, recalling nothing. Her body felt heavy, the simple action of lifting her head a monumental feat in itself. She wanted to speak, but only managed what she could comprehend was groans. The pain was there, radiating from her torso down to the soles of her throbbing bare feet. Even the sheets against her skin felt as if they were made from cheese graters. And all the while, she realized she hadn't even opened her eyes yet.

The bright lights hit her eyes, causing her to immediately shut them again. With a groan, she turned her aching neck in an effort to avoid the light, seeing a cloudy figure outstretched figure on a cot next to her own bed. She blinked a few times to clear her vision to see Jacen hard asleep, his bare torso wrapped in bandages and sown with stitches. His brown skin was blotched with purplish-black bruises and smaller lacerations. He looked how she felt, but she imagined she would face her own horrors when she eventually looked in a mirror. This life didn't give a girl much to work with, she thought.

Boots hit the floor nearby, growing louder and louder as they approached her bedside. A shadow loomed over her as a pair of hands began adjusting her IV. Noelle slowly turned, eyes squinting in the light to see Dr. Mathinson standing over her.

Mathinson reached over and gently took her wrist in his hand and glanced at his watch. "It's good to see you awake." He removed his hand. "Pulse is good. How ya feelin'?"

Noelle groaned.

"Dumb question, right?" Mathinson laughed. "Get comfortable. I want you to rest for the next 24 to 48 hours. You suffered a pretty bad concussion and a head wound. Needed stitches. I know the pain is bad right now, but you'll have to endure it for now. We don't have paid medication like we used to. What's in your system now is all I can provide."

Noelle winced, her head pounding. She averted her eyes away from Mathinson and looked over at Jacen. He was still asleep, oblivious to the world around him.

Mathinson followed her eyes. He touched her shoulder. "Don't worry, he's fine. I have him doped up right now. He sustained some burns, a pair of fractured ribs. Lucky man. Plasma burned through his tactical vest and clothing. The gel layer buffered most of the damage. Seems like you guys were in quite the battle."

Noelle _wanted_ to tell him that he had no idea, that their injuries merely scratched the surface of the _true experience._ She wouldn't lash out at the doctor, though; he'd seen his fair share of devastation. Whether he sensed her emotions of not, he forced a half-smile and left her bedside. He said he would check on her in a few hours and departed from the room. The door barely closed behind him before tears swelled in Noelle's eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. She exhaled out quivered breaths, wanting so badly to scream aloud until her lungs burst. Maybe she'd held it in too long, a pressure cooker reaching its boiling point. Or maybe it was the last straw, the final nail in the coffin that was ready to be lowered down into the cold earth forever. But why was she feeling this way _now?_ It angered her that she couldn't pinpoint the pain. All she could do was allow the emotions to ebb away and rest for another day.

* * *

Astrid figured she'd given Rey enough time. It had been twenty-four hours since they'd returned from the raid, and from the exchange with DEV, it was an obvious failure. To talk to him when the defeat was fresh would've been a mistake, she knew. Boiling water needed time to cool off when you turned the heat off, so he knew that Rey would need a moment. But what would she say? Words seemed fruitless. Nothing could be said that would heal the internal wounds that were inflicted. She almost laughed thinking about the psychology course she attended in college almost twenty years ago, learning how to reason and understand an individual. No one wanted you in their head, and you could never _truly_ understand someone. This fact she knew, and it was something she wouldn't carry with Rey. Nowadays, after nearly three decades of war with the Covenant, who had time for a psycho analysis anyway?

She stood in front of his door that was wedged open. That wasn't good a sign. Inside wasn't much better, if not worse. The room was ransacked: tables and desks were overturned, papers were strewed about on the floor, and glass was shattered. She weaved her feet through the mess, taken aback by the sight but not surprised. No matter the strength, every man broke. For as long as she knew him, Rey was a man of composure and discipline. He was Army, through and through; but there was something more, something deep inside of him that kept a reign on things better than others. Nevertheless, water wear down rocks and war wear down people. No one was completely resilient.

She found Rey asleep atop his cot, his arm resting over his eyes and his left leg hanging off the side. There was a broken bottle of bourbon by his bedside, the miniscule contents pooled under the brown shards.

Astrid swiped a few particles of debris from the sheets and sat down at the end of the cot. She looked over at him and spoke softly. "Reymond."

Rey shifted, remained asleep.

Astrid raked her thumb across her eyebrow and elevated her voice. "Reymond!"

Rey awoke with a jerk, as if being prodded with an electric baton. He sat up with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut. One look into Astrid's face and he knew the ensuing conversation. He specifically told DEV that he didn't want to be disturbed, not by anything that wasn't seriously important. And now he had no choice but to face the only person he could describe as his living conscience. He swung his legs over the side of the cot and let his bare feet his the cold floor. With a sigh, he ran his hands over his face and glanced over his shoulder at Astrid.

"I know what you're going to say… and I'd rather not hear it."

"And how do you know what I'm about to say?" Astrid questioned. "I'm only here to make sure that you don't lose yourself."

Rey scoffed. "Lose myself? Am I supposed to pretend that everything is okay, that after what happened we still have a light at the end the tunnel? Sorry. I'm not built that way. I'll keep everyone alive as long as possible, but when those systems shut down, there's nothing I can do about it. We're dead."

Astrid folded her hands across her lap and chewed her bottom lip. Rey's mind was flooded with defeat. She couldn't pretend that she knew what is was like to have a weight of everyone's lives on her shoulders, but she _did_ know what it was like to have people depend on you for success. If you failed, everything else around you would meet the same end. But to give up, to carry on as if everything was normal, didn't sit well with her. Maybe she was trying to view the glass half full, but it was her method to remain positive. To Rey, the glass was shattered like the bourbon bottle on the floor.

"Reymond, how long have we known each other?"

Rey turned away and rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for a motivational pep talk, but if it meant he could end this conversation as quickly as possible, then he'd entertain her. "Subtracting the four years here, five or six years."

"And in all that time, we've faced a number of circumstances where the outcome seemed dismal. Do you remember the operation in south China? That was our beginning. It was my first op as the new logistics coordinator and we were investigating insurgent activity. You were a lieutenant then." She laughed. "Anyway, the op went sideways and the insurgents captured our deep cover team and threatened to execute them. I didn't know what to do. Under no circumstances were we to negotiate with them, so the only other option was either let the die or save them. _No one_ wanted to risk their lives for four operatives, but you did. You volunteered yourself and your team and saved those operatives. You did the impossible. And from the moment forward, I didn't want to work with another soldier. It would _always_ be Reymond Anderton."

"Is this the part where you draw a parallel between then and now? Because I can assure you these circumstances are _very_ different."

"Reymond, in my career, I've worked alongside many powerful men and women. People who could level an entire civilization from their office with one phone call. And you know what? Not _one_ of those people could do what you're doing now. They would fail within months. That's why you were chosen for this, because you and the other captains across his moon were the only people with the fortitude to get this done. I'm not saying this to boost your confidence; I'm saying this so that we can have a tomorrow."

Rey shook his head. "And what do you think this raid was about? It _was_ so we could have a tomorrow, and a day after that. The Engineer wasn't a cure-all, but it would've given us time. Time for us to find a solution to getting in contact with the UNSC. Without time, then we don't have a future."

Astrid leaned forward, placing her hand atop his. "Then we have two years to figure that out."

Rey wasn't so sure, and Astrid's confidence in him was beginning to wear on his nerves. Had he completely failed? Probably not; but on it's face, this was a blow that they wouldn't be able to recover from. Now it was time that was more valuable that any resource they had. Rey wasn't one to believe in miracles, but if there was ever chance to receive one, then now was the time.


End file.
